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Education and 

Training 

in 

Developmental 

Disabilities 

Special Conference Issue 

Research to Practice 

Volume 38 Number 4 December 2003

December 2003 Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities Vol. 38, No. 4, pp. 353–464

Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities 

The <strong>Journal</strong> of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> on Developmental Disabilities, 

The Council for Exceptional Children 

Editor: Stanley H. Zucker 

Arizona State University 

Consulting Editors 

Martin Agran 

Reuben Altman 

Richard Bartlett 

Phillip J. Belfiore 

Sharon Borthwick-Duffy 

Michael P. Brady 

Fredda Brown 

Mary Lynne Calhoun 

Caroline Dunn 

Lise Fox 

Guest Editors: Cindy Perras 

Peel District School Board 

David L. Gast 

Herbert Goldstein 

Robert Henderson 

Carolyn Hughes 

Larry K. Irvin 

James V. Kahn 

H. Earle Knowlton 

Barry W. Lavay 

Rena Lewis 

Kathleen J. Marshall 

Valerie Sharpe 

Hood College 

John McDonnell 

Gale M. Morrison 

Gabriel A. Nardi 

John Nietupski 

James R. Patton 

Edward A. Polloway 

Thomas G. Roberts 

Robert S. Rueda 

Diane L. Ryndak 

Edward J. Sabornie 

Darlene E. Perner 

Bloomsburg University 

Laurence R. Sargent 

Gary M. Sasso 

Tom E. C. Smith 

Scott Sparks 

Fred Spooner 

Robert Stodden 

Keith Storey 

David L. Westling 

John J. Wheeler 

Mark Wolery 

Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities is sent to all members of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> on Developmental Disabilities of The Council 

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Education Resources. 

Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities Vol. 38, No. 4, December 2003, Copyright 2003 by <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> on Developmental 

Disabilities, The Council for Exceptional Children. 

<strong>Division</strong> on Developmental Disabilities 

The Council for Exceptional Children 

Board of Directors 

Officers 

Past President Cindy Perras 

President Andrea Babkie 

President-Elect Barbara Gartin 

Vice President Dagny Fidler 

Secretary Karen A. Kainz 

Treasurer Dan Ezell 

Members 

Joyce Agness 

Leslie Broun 

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Jim Forristal 

Jennifer Miller (Student Governor) 

Nikki Murdick 

Executive Director 

Tom E. C. Smith 

Publications Chair 

Jack Hourcade 

The purposes of this organization shall be to advance <strong>the</strong> education and welfare of persons with developmental disabilities, research in <strong>the</strong> 

education of persons with developmental disabilities, competency of educators in this field, public understanding of developmental disabilities, 

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EDUCATION AND TRAINING IN DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITIES (ISSN 0013-1237) (USPS 0168-5000) is published quarterly in 

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Education and Training in Developmental 

Disabilities 

Editorial Policy 

Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities focuses on <strong>the</strong> education and 

welfare of persons with developmental disabilities. ETDD invites research and 

expository manuscripts and critical review of <strong>the</strong> literature. Major emphasis is on 

identification and assessment, educational programming, characteristics, training 

of instructional personnel, habilitation, prevention, community understanding and 

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Each manuscript is evaluated anonymously by three reviewers. Criteria for acceptance 

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contribution to <strong>the</strong> field, and economy and smoothness of expression. The review 

process requires two to four months. 

Viewpoints expressed are those of <strong>the</strong> authors and do not necessarily conform to 

positions of <strong>the</strong> editors or of <strong>the</strong> officers of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong>. 

Submission of Manuscripts 

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2. Manuscripts must be prepared according to <strong>the</strong> recommendations in <strong>the</strong> Publication 

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articles accepted for publication are copyrighted in <strong>the</strong> name of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> on 

Developmental Disabilities.

Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities 

VOLUME 38 NUMBER 4 DECEMBER 2003 

Research to Practice in Cognitive Disabilities/Mental Retardation, Autism, and 

Related Disabilities 355 

CINDY PERRAS 

VALERIE SHARPE 

DARLENE E. PERNER 

STANLEY H. ZUCKER 

Abandoning <strong>the</strong> Myth of Mental Retardation 358 

J. DAVID SMITH 

Written Language Profile of Children and Youth with Asperger Syndrome: 

From Research to Practice 362 

BRENDA SMITH MYLES 

ABIGAIL HUGGINS 

MALEIA ROME-LAKE 

TAKU HAGIWARA 

GENA P. BARNHILL 

DEBORAH E. GRISWOLD 

Family Perceptions of Transitions in Early Intervention 370 

DAVID L. LOVETT 

KATHRYN A. HARING 

Age of Majority, Transfer of Rights and Guardianship: Considerations for 

Families and Educators 378 

DOROTHY SQUATRITO MILLAR 

Accountability in Collaboration: A Framework for Evaluation 398 

JACK HOURCADE 

PHIL PARETTE 

HOLLY ANDERSON 

Enhancing Appropriate Social Behaviors for Children with Autism in General 

Education Classrooms: An Analysis of Six Cases 405 

NANCY KUEIFEN YANG 

JAMES L. SCHALLER 

TZU-AI HUANG 

MEEI HUEY WANG 

SHU-FEI TSAI 

Education for all in <strong>the</strong> North and <strong>the</strong> South: Teachers’ Attitudes Towards 

Inclusive Education in Finland and Zambia 417 

SAKARI MOBERG 

The <strong>Division</strong> on Developmental Disabilities retains literary property rights on copyrighted articles. Up to 100 

copies of <strong>the</strong> articles in this journal may be reproduced for nonprofit distribution without permission from <strong>the</strong> 

publisher. All o<strong>the</strong>r forms of reproduction require permission from <strong>the</strong> publisher.

Using Assistive Technology Focus Groups with Families Across Cultures 429 

PHIL PARETTE 

MARY BLAKE HUER 

JACK J. HOURCADE 

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S (Motivating Activities Geared-to Instilling Confidence– 

Wonderful Opportunities to Raise Kid’s Self-Esteem) 441 

DAN EZELL 

COLLEEN E. KLEIN-EZELL 

Application of Computer Simulation to Teach ATM Access to Individuals with 

Intellectual Disabilities 451 

DANIEL K. DAVIES 

STEVEN E. STOCK 

MICHAEL L. WEHMEYER 

Index—Volume 38, 2003 457 

Manuscripts Accepted for Future Publication 354 

Manuscripts Accepted for Future Publication in Education 

and Training in Developmental Disabilities 

March 2004 – Special Issue: Postsecondary Education 

Person-centered and collaborative supports for college success. Cate Weir, Institute on Disability/ 

UCE, University of NH, 10 Ferry Street, # 14, Concord, NH 03301. 

Changing systems for transition: Students, families, and professionals working toge<strong>the</strong>r. David A. 

Noyes and Caren L. Sax, San Diego State University, Interwork Institute, San Diego, CA 92182. 

Postsecondary education and youth with intellectual disabilities. Robert A. Stodden and Teresa 

Whelley, Center on Disabilities Studies, University of Hawai‘i at Manoa, 1776 University Avenue, 

#UA4-6, Honolulu, HI 96822. 

Perceptions of training needs for disability support and transition personnel: Assisting postsecondary 

success. Elizabeth Getzel, RRTC on Supported Employment, Virginia Commonwealth 

University, 1314 West Main Street, P.O. Box 842011, Richmond, VA 23284-2011. 

Increasing parent involvement through a postsecondary education transition course. Margo Izzo, 

The Nisonger Center/UAP, Ohio State University, 1581 Dodd Drive, Columbus, OH 43210-1296. 

Activities of students with significant disabilities receiving services in postsecondary settings. Deb 

Neubert, Sheryl Moon, and Meg Grigal, Department of Special Education, University of Maryland, 

College Park, MD 20742. 

College career connection: A matched cohort study of youth with significant disabilities in 

postsecondary education. Cynthia Zaft, Debra Hart, and Karen Zimbrich, University of Massachusetts 

at Boston, 100 Morrissey Blvd., Boston, MA 02125-3393. 

Transition services: Secondary school and community college partnership for student success. 

Elizabeth Pearman, Twila Elliott, and Lucinda Aborn, Special REsource Center, El Camino 

College, 16007 Crenshaw Blvd., Torrance, CA 90506. 

Address is supplied for author in boldface type.

Research to Practice in Cognitive Disabilities/Mental 

Retardation, Autism, and Related Disabilities 

Cindy Perras 

Peel District School Board 

Ontario, Canada 

Darlene E. Perner 

Bloomsburg University 

On February 12-14, 2003, <strong>the</strong> Council for Exceptional 

Children <strong>Division</strong> on Developmental 

Disabilities (DDD) sponsored its Eighth 

International Conference: Research to Practice 

in Cognitive Disabilities/Mental Retardation, 

Autism, and Related Disabilities. The 

conference was held at <strong>the</strong> Sheraton Poipu on 

Kauai. The DDD Board of Directors decided 

to devote this issue of Education and Training 

in Developmental Disabilities to conference papers. 

The conference brought toge<strong>the</strong>r educators 

from school and college classrooms 

from all over <strong>the</strong> world. Through a joint program 

process with <strong>the</strong> Pacific Rim Conference, 

taking place in Honolulu, Hawaii earlier 

in <strong>the</strong> week, sessions were offered on a wide 

range of topics. This special issue can enable 

those who attended <strong>the</strong> conference to see expanded 

papers, prepared by presenters, and 

also give those who were unable to attend an 

opportunity to benefit from <strong>the</strong> thoughtful 

work done by conference participants. 

Presenters were asked to submit papers 

based on <strong>the</strong>ir conference presentations. Papers 

submitted were reviewed by <strong>the</strong> Guest 

Editors who selected <strong>the</strong> papers for publication. 

We think <strong>the</strong> selection of papers represents 

an interesting assortment of topics and 

formats ranging from discussion papers to databased 

research to descriptions of classroom 

techniques. The papers selected do not necessarily 

represent all <strong>the</strong> topics covered at <strong>the</strong> 

conference but <strong>the</strong>y do give a good idea of <strong>the</strong> 

variety and quality of <strong>the</strong> presentations. We 

would like to thank those authors who submitted 

papers for <strong>the</strong>ir efforts in making this 

Special Conference Issue possible. 

Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities, 2003, 38(4), 355–357 

© <strong>Division</strong> on Developmental Disabilities 

Valerie Sharpe 

Hood College 

Stanley H. Zucker 

Arizona State University 

The first article is based on <strong>the</strong> keynote 

address from <strong>the</strong> opening session. J. David 

Smith in “Abandoning <strong>the</strong> myth of mental 

retardation” shares his view of where we came 

from, where we are, and where we are going. 

He sees <strong>the</strong> movement away from <strong>the</strong> term 

mental retardation as an opportunity to enhance 

our understanding of <strong>the</strong> people who 

have been described by <strong>the</strong> term, and our 

appreciation of <strong>the</strong>ir rightful place in <strong>the</strong> human 

community. The best definition of mental 

retardation may be no definition and <strong>the</strong> 

most positive paradigm shift might be <strong>the</strong> deconstruction 

of mental retardation. As part of 

this process he envisions <strong>the</strong> term mental retardation 

as an historical artifact of <strong>the</strong> evolution 

of our thinking about children and adults 

with developmental disabilities. 

With <strong>the</strong> onset of federal and state accountability 

measures, use of standardized assessment 

instruments to measure academic skill 

achievement of students diagnosed with disabilities 

has become a topical issue. In particular, 

how students with specifically diagnosed 

disabilities compare with <strong>the</strong>ir neurotypical 

peers. Brenda Smith Myles and her colleagues 

in “Written language profile of children and 

youth with Asperger Syndrome: From research 

to practice”, compare 16 children and 

youth with Asperger Syndrome (AS) and 16 

neurotypical peers on a standardized test of 

written language skills and legibility of handwriting. 

The evidence-based findings are fur<strong>the</strong>r 

supported by <strong>the</strong> authors’ implications 

for translating research to practice in teaching 

writing skills for children and youth with AS. 

The next article, “Family perceptions of 

Research to Practice / 355

transitions in early intervention” explores 

three broad <strong>the</strong>mes about transitions that 

have emerged in a naturalistic study of experiences 

of families with young children with 

disabilities. David L. Lovett and Kathryn A. 

Haring detail and examine perceptions and 

experiences of parents and o<strong>the</strong>r family members 

of infants and toddlers who were identified 

at birth, or shortly <strong>the</strong>reafter, as having a 

disability. They describe transitions that families 

underwent during <strong>the</strong> early years of <strong>the</strong>ir 

children’s lives and provide suggestions for 

assisting families during transition. 

State law determines <strong>the</strong> age of majority at 

which youth become legally responsible 

adults. Parents no longer take on <strong>the</strong> role of 

guardian. When youth with developmental 

disabilities become of legal age, IDEA has 

mandated that <strong>the</strong>ir educational rights be 

transferred from <strong>the</strong>ir parents to <strong>the</strong>m unless 

judged incompetent. How this is determined 

and o<strong>the</strong>r issues related to self-determination, 

<strong>the</strong> age of majority and guardianship are examined 

in “Age of majority, transfer of rights 

and guardianship: Considerations for families 

and educators.” Dorothy Squatrito Millar reviewed 

221 court files from Michigan. She 

presents information about guardianship 

practices such as definitions, guardianship 

procedures, alleged rights of <strong>the</strong> individual 

with developmental disabilities, and succinctly 

discusses <strong>the</strong> results of her review of court 

files. This article is informative and should be 

of interest to individuals with developmental 

disabilities, <strong>the</strong>ir parents and educators. As 

well, it demonstrates <strong>the</strong> complexity of guardianship 

issues and practices. 

The onset of legislative mandates such as 

those stated in P.L.107-110, <strong>the</strong> No Child Left 

Behind Act of 2001, have highlighted matters of 

outcome accountability and collaborative efforts. 

Such matters have become two of <strong>the</strong> 

forefront issues facing educators today. Issues 

of accountability and collaboration have resulted 

in a paradigm shift within <strong>the</strong> professional 

roles of educators in terms of data collection 

and data evaluation. In “Accountability 

in collaboration: A framework for evaluation,” 

Jack Hourcade, Phil Parette, and Holly Anderson, 

discuss use of a matrix for data collection 

that assesses <strong>the</strong> accountability factor in <strong>the</strong> 

collaborative process. This evaluative strategy 

356 / Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities-December 2003 

is useful for multiple data sources that <strong>the</strong> 

authors describe in detail. 

Social-emotional skills training for children 

diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder 

(ASD) continues to generate substantial educational 

and research interest. In response to 

educational services in Taiwan, <strong>the</strong> study described 

in “Enhancing appropriate social behaviors 

for children with autism in general 

education classrooms: An analysis of six cases,” 

was designed to compare <strong>the</strong> generalized effects 

of social-emotional skills training of six 

children with autism in an elementary school 

resource room and <strong>the</strong> promotion of positive 

social behaviors within general education 

classrooms. The positive effects reported by 

Nancy Kueifen Yang and colleagues serve as 

ano<strong>the</strong>r indicator for integration of children 

diagnosed with ASD into <strong>the</strong> general education 

classroom. Additionally, in support of research 

to practice initiatives, practitioners will 

find <strong>the</strong> provision of a list of suggested interventions 

for children diagnosed with ASD in 

promoting positive social behaviors in <strong>the</strong> 

general education classroom. 

The next article, reports a survey by Sakari 

Moberg, of <strong>the</strong> University of Jyvaskyla, Finland. 

He assessed <strong>the</strong> attitudes of more than 

1600 teachers from Zambia and Finland towards 

inclusive education and <strong>the</strong> perceptions 

of an appropriate educational environment 

for children with different disabilities. “Education 

for all in <strong>the</strong> North and <strong>the</strong> South: 

Teachers’ attitudes towards inclusive education 

in Finland and Zambia”, includes a detailed 

examination of responses, identifies a 

variety of attitude dimensions, and compares 

similarities and differences between <strong>the</strong> two 

countries. Moberg concludes with a discussion 

on how <strong>the</strong> research findings relate to teacher 

attitudes on inclusion. 

Implementing assistive technology (AT) devices 

and services for students with developmental 

disabilities involves an AT decision 

making process. Studies have examined specific 

dimensions during this process including 

child characteristics, family issues and cultural 

factors. In <strong>the</strong>ir article, “Using assistive technology 

focus groups with families across cultures,” 

Phil Parette, Mary Blake Huer, and 

Jack J. Hourcade emphasize <strong>the</strong> importance 

of culturally and linguistically sensitive ap-

proaches during <strong>the</strong> AT decision making process. 

Using AT focus groups, <strong>the</strong>y describe a 

four-phase process for collecting information 

from families. This strategy can be implemented 

by professionals in school settings, is 

particularly responsive to families from culturally 

and linguistically diverse backgrounds, 

and leads to effective and culturally and linguistically 

sensitive AT decision making. 

Children with disabilities may be at risk for 

low self-esteem and poor self-confidence. In 

“M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. (Motivating Activities 

Geared to Instilling Confidence – Wonderful 

Opportunities to Raise Kid’s Self-esteem)” 

Dan Ezell and Colleen Klein-Ezell have researched 

a novel approach to addressing <strong>the</strong> 

issues of esteem and confidence. Research 

participants included a group of twenty-six 

students, at both <strong>the</strong> elementary and secondary 

levels, with a variety of disabilities. Each 

participant was taught a variety of magic tricks 

and provided with extensive practice time 

prior to performing for o<strong>the</strong>rs. Pre and posttest 

measures of self-esteem and self-confidence, 

using <strong>the</strong> Self-Image domain from <strong>the</strong> 

Self-Confidence dimension on <strong>the</strong> Student 

Self-Concept Scale, indicate a statistical increase 

in both self-esteem and self-confidence 

for all research participants. This article concludes 

with a discussion of <strong>the</strong> significance of 

<strong>the</strong>se results and <strong>the</strong>ir implications for practice. 

The final article explains that while Automated 

Teller Machine (ATM) usage is commonplace; 

individuals with intellectual disabilities 

typically do not have <strong>the</strong> training or 

access to use <strong>the</strong>se machines for <strong>the</strong>ir banking 

and o<strong>the</strong>r needs. Daniel K. Davies, 

Steven E. Stock, and Michael L. Wehmeyer 

investigated using computer simulation to 

teach adults with intellectual disabilities 

how to operate an ATM. In “Application of 

computer simulation to teach ATM access to 

individuals with intellectual disabilities,” 

nine adults with intellectual disabilities were 

pre-tested on <strong>the</strong>ir ability to use an ATM. 

Then <strong>the</strong>y were taught ATM skills using an 

ATM-SIM prototype, a computer-based 

trainer. Following brief instruction on operating 

<strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM, <strong>the</strong> nine adults were 

tested again using a local ATM. Results of 

this study demonstrated computer simulation 

as an effective way to teach ATM skills 

to adults with intellectual disabilities. 

We hope readers of this Research to Practice 

Special Conference Issue find <strong>the</strong> information 

valuable and timely. 

Research to Practice / 357



Abandoning <strong>the</strong> Myth of Mental Retardation 

The “Retarded Retarded,” <strong>the</strong> “Normal Retarded,” 

and <strong>the</strong> “Minimally Gifted” 

One of <strong>the</strong> great teachers I had during my 

doctoral studies at Teachers College, Columbia 

University was Professor Ignacy Goldberg. 

As great teachers often do, Dr. Goldberg engaged 

his students with stories from his own 

life. I remember clearly his accounts from 

early in his career of working in an institution 

for persons diagnosed as mentally retarded. 

He recalled that during his first days <strong>the</strong>re an 

experienced staff member explained to him 

that <strong>the</strong>re were actually three different populations 

of people in <strong>the</strong> institution, <strong>the</strong> “retarded 

retarded,” <strong>the</strong> “normal retarded,” and 

<strong>the</strong> “minimally gifted.” The retarded retarded 

needed constant care. The normal retarded 

and <strong>the</strong> minimally gifted often provided this 

help to <strong>the</strong>m. The normal retarded were <strong>the</strong> 

mainstream population of <strong>the</strong> institution. 

They lived relatively independent lives within 

<strong>the</strong> culture of <strong>the</strong> institution. They were often 

given <strong>the</strong> most basic and unpleasant work to 

do (cleaning and caring for <strong>the</strong> retarded retarded). 

The minimally gifted made certain 

that things ran smoothly in <strong>the</strong> wards of <strong>the</strong> 

institution. They occupied <strong>the</strong> upper echelon 

of <strong>the</strong> residential society and were rewarded 

by <strong>the</strong> institution’s staff for doing things <strong>the</strong> 

employees were actually paid to do. Their rewards 

included cigarettes, money, privileges 

and o<strong>the</strong>r favors. The quality of institutional 

life often depended on <strong>the</strong> abilities, sensibilities, 

and compassion of <strong>the</strong> minimally gifted. 

Dr. Goldberg discussed <strong>the</strong> degrading nature 

of <strong>the</strong> terms used to describe <strong>the</strong> institution’s 

residents, particularly <strong>the</strong> sarcastic designa- 

Correspondence concerning this article should 

be addressed to J. David Smith, Provost and Senior 

Vice Chancellor, The University of Virginia’s College 

at Wise, 1 College Avenue, Wise, VA 24293. 

J. David Smith 

The University of Virginia’s College at Wise 

tion “minimally gifted.” The concept underlying 

<strong>the</strong> terms, however, he found to be valid. 

There were distinctly different groups of people 

in <strong>the</strong> institution, yet all of <strong>the</strong>m were 

referred to as being <strong>the</strong> retarded. He used his 

story to question <strong>the</strong> monolith that mental 

retardation had become in <strong>the</strong> thinking of <strong>the</strong> 

public and in many professional circles (Smith 

& Mitchell, 2001). 

Told in <strong>the</strong> Drooling Ward 


A striking confirmation of Dr. Goldberg’s recollection 

came to me recently when I read a 

short story by Jack London. It was written from 

<strong>the</strong> perspective of a resident in a state mental 

retardation institution in <strong>the</strong> early twentieth 

century. London was an admirer of eugenics, 

and his philosophy included <strong>the</strong> assumption 

of innate human limitations of both racial and 

social class origins. London’s character in <strong>the</strong> 

story, Tom, repeats several times that <strong>the</strong> institution 

is <strong>the</strong> right place for him to be, and 

he implies that <strong>the</strong> outside world is too complex 

and competitive for him. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r 

hand, London has Tom explain <strong>the</strong> ways in 

which he is superior to o<strong>the</strong>rs within his institutional 

world and how <strong>the</strong>y rely on his abilities 

for <strong>the</strong>ir well being. Tom’s description of 

<strong>the</strong> differences among <strong>the</strong> people in <strong>the</strong> institution 

make <strong>the</strong> story, “Told in <strong>the</strong> Drooling 

Ward,” a compelling reading experience for 

anyone interested in <strong>the</strong> sociology of institutionalization. 

Me? I’m not a drooler. I’m <strong>the</strong> assistant. I 

don’t know what Miss Jones or Miss Kelsey 

could do without me. There are fifty-five 

low-grade droolers in this ward, and how 

could <strong>the</strong>y ever all be fed if I wasn’t around? 

I like to feed <strong>the</strong> droolers. They don’t make 

much trouble. They can’t. Something’s 

wrong with most of <strong>the</strong>ir legs and arms and 

<strong>the</strong>y can’t talk. They are very low-grade. I

can walk, and talk, and do things. You must 

be careful with <strong>the</strong> droolers and not feed 

<strong>the</strong>m too fast. . . Miss Jones says I’m anexpert. 

(London, 1916, p. 87) 

Tom goes into fur<strong>the</strong>r detail about his special 

place in <strong>the</strong> hierarchy of <strong>the</strong> institution. 

He also divulges <strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong>re are people 

in <strong>the</strong> institution who have been placed <strong>the</strong>re 

because of epilepsy and he doesn’t like <strong>the</strong>m. 

He clearly thinks that <strong>the</strong>y don’t belong in 

what he calls <strong>the</strong> Home. 

But I am a high-grade feeb. Dr. Dalrymple 

says I am too smart to be in <strong>the</strong> Home, but 

I never let on. It’s a pretty good place. And 

I don’t throw fits like lots of <strong>the</strong> feebs. You 

see that house up <strong>the</strong>re through <strong>the</strong> trees. 

The high-grade epilecs all live in it by <strong>the</strong>mselves. 

They’re stuck up because <strong>the</strong>y ain’t 

ordinary feebs. They call it <strong>the</strong> club house, 

and <strong>the</strong>y say <strong>the</strong>y’re just as good as anyone 

outside, only <strong>the</strong>y’re sick. I don’t like <strong>the</strong>m 

much. (London, 1916, p. 88) 

Tom also describes several of his fellow residents 

according to <strong>the</strong> etiology of <strong>the</strong>ir retardation. 

His description of <strong>the</strong> characteristics 

and prognosis associated with each diagnosis 

is interesting and, in some cases, moving. 

Do you know what a micro is? It’s <strong>the</strong> kind 

with <strong>the</strong> little heads no bigger than your fist. 

They’re usually droolers, and <strong>the</strong>y live a 

long time. The hydros don’t drool. They 

have <strong>the</strong> big heads, and <strong>the</strong>y’re smarter. But 

<strong>the</strong>y never grow up. They always die. I never 

look at one without thinking he’s going to 

die. 

Tom fantasizes about how his life could be 

improved if <strong>the</strong> staff of <strong>the</strong> institution openly 

recognized his abilities. He believes that if he 

were treated fairly he could have a “normal” life. 

Some day mebbe, I am going to talk with 

Doctor Darlymple and get him to give me a 

declaration that I ain’t a feeb. Then I’ll get 

him to make me a real assistant in <strong>the</strong> drooling 

ward, with forty dollars a month and my 

board. And <strong>the</strong>n I’ll marry Miss Jones and 

live right on here. And if she won’t have me, 

I’ll marry Miss Kelsey or some o<strong>the</strong>r nurse. 

There’s lots of <strong>the</strong>m that want to get married. 

(London, 1916, p. 103) 

The Elusive Essence of Mental Retardation 

Typology is <strong>the</strong> study of groups of individuals 

whose individual differences are eclipsed by 

underlying types or essences. In anthropology, 

it asserts that homogeneous and valid classifications 

can be established for people who 

share critically defining characteristics. Gelb 

(1997) has found that definitions of mental 

retardation, regardless of <strong>the</strong>ir variations or 

details, have all been established on <strong>the</strong> assumptions 

of typological thought. From this 

perspective, <strong>the</strong> axis or core of <strong>the</strong> field of 

mental retardation is <strong>the</strong> conviction that <strong>the</strong>re 

is an “essence” of mental retardation. This 

essence overshadows all of <strong>the</strong> individual differences 

that o<strong>the</strong>rwise characterize <strong>the</strong> people 

who are classified by <strong>the</strong> term. 

Even a glance at <strong>the</strong> panoply of etiologies 

associated with <strong>the</strong> term mental retardation is 

illustrative of <strong>the</strong> reductionistic allure and 

power of typological thinking. In 1992 <strong>the</strong> 

AAMR delineated more than 350 causes of 

mental retardation (Luckasson et al., 1992). 

This list does not, however, take into account 

<strong>the</strong> varying degrees and specific types of disabilities 

associated with <strong>the</strong>se etiologies. If 

<strong>the</strong>se variables are added, <strong>the</strong> multiple and 

complex meanings of what is called mental 

retardation is staggering. The only conceptual 

“glue” that holds mental retardation toge<strong>the</strong>r 

as a category of human beings is <strong>the</strong> typological 

notion that <strong>the</strong>re is some fundamental 

essence to <strong>the</strong> universe of characteristics and 

<strong>the</strong> vastly differing needs of <strong>the</strong> people identified 

by this term. Clearly, however, mental 

retardation is a term used to describe an aggregation 

of diverse human circumstances. 

The only rationale for this aggregation appears 

to be <strong>the</strong> typological reasoning that 

Gelb (1997) has described. 

The Invention of Mental Retardation 

Burton Blatt once described mental retardation 

as an “invented disease” (1999, p. 86). In 

<strong>the</strong>se remarks published after his death, he 

fur<strong>the</strong>r describes it as a story about a large 

group of people that is both unnecessary and 

untrue, and he compared it to <strong>the</strong> invention 

of old age as a disease. As usual, Blatt was 

ahead of his time. 

He repeated that mental retardation is an 

Abandoning <strong>the</strong> Myth / 359

invented disease. “The only treatments possible 

for invented diseases are those which are 

<strong>the</strong>mselves invented. And in that sense, all 

treatments for mental retardation are abusive” 

(Blatt, 1999, p. 95). He acknowledged that 

<strong>the</strong>re are people with problems for whom a 

caring society must provide care and treatment 

and some of <strong>the</strong>m have been described 

by <strong>the</strong> term mental retardation. He included 

many people who may not “read well . . . or 

think well” in this category (p. 95). “But in 

each instance, <strong>the</strong> ‘disease’ is not mental retardation, 

but something else . . . The best way 

to cure an invented disease is to forget it. The 

best way to reduce abuses of those people 

unlucky enough to have ‘caught’ invented diseases 

is to offer no treatment, because abuse is 

<strong>the</strong> only treatment for an invented disease” 

(Blatt, 1999, p. 95). 

The Myth of Mental Retardation 

In The Conquest of Mental Retardation, Burton 

Blatt (1987) wrote of <strong>the</strong> importance of stories. 

Every story can enhance life or destroy it. 

Every story can lift us or depress us. Stories 

sustain if not make a person’s world. And 

thus, <strong>the</strong> storyteller holds a certain power 

(and responsibility). (p. 141) 

In very important ways, stories of mental 

retardation have created and sustained <strong>the</strong> 

concept. Sometimes <strong>the</strong> stories have been positive. 

The stories of Itard and Victor, of Samuel 

Gridley Howe and Edward Sequin have 

encouraged generations of parents and professionals 

who care deeply about children and 

adults described by <strong>the</strong> term mental retardation. 

More often, however, <strong>the</strong> nature and 

intent of mental retardation stories have been 

negative. The pessimistic and cynical tales of 

<strong>the</strong> Kallikaks and Jukes questioned <strong>the</strong> efficacy 

of providing education and social services 

for people identified as retarded (Smith, 

1985). The story of Carrie Buck became central 

to <strong>the</strong> argument for institutionalizing and 

sterilizing thousands of people labeled with 

<strong>the</strong> term (Smith & Nelson, 1989). 

In speaking of <strong>the</strong> meaning of <strong>the</strong> term 

mental retardation, Trent (1994) defined it as 

a “construction whose changing meaning is 

shaped both by individuals who initiate and 

administer policies, programs and practices, 

and by <strong>the</strong> social context to which <strong>the</strong>se individuals 

are responding” (p. 2). He argued that 

<strong>the</strong> term has sometimes been used in <strong>the</strong> 

name of science, sometimes in <strong>the</strong> name of 

protecting people, and sometimes in <strong>the</strong> 

name of economic necessity. In every case, 

however, it has been used for <strong>the</strong> purpose of 

controlling people perceived to be a threat, an 

inconvenience or a societal drain. 

In 1961, Thomas Ssasz rocked <strong>the</strong> psychiatric 

world by proclaiming <strong>the</strong> “myth of mental 

illness.” He asserted that <strong>the</strong> medical terminology 

associated with <strong>the</strong> vast array of emotional 

and social difficulties that people may 

encounter in life was inaccurate and misleading. 

According to Ssasz, although <strong>the</strong> term 

mental illness “made good historical sensestemming 

as it does from <strong>the</strong> historical identity 

of medicine and psychiatry-it made no 

rational sense. Although mental illness might 

have been a useful concept in <strong>the</strong> nineteenth 

century, today it is scientifically worthless and 

socially harmful” (Ssasz, 1961, p. ix). 

Mental Retardation: Disaggregation as a 

Paradigm Shift? 


The authors of <strong>the</strong> 1992 AAMR manual characterized 

<strong>the</strong>ir revisions to <strong>the</strong> definition and 

classification of mental retardation as a paradigm 

shift. This shift was presented as consisting 

of two facets. The first of <strong>the</strong>se was a 

change in <strong>the</strong> conception of mental retardation 

from a trait existing in an individual to an 

expression of <strong>the</strong> interaction between a person 

with limited intellectual and adaptive 

skills, and that individual’s environment. The 

second element of <strong>the</strong> shift was an emphasis 

on <strong>the</strong> pattern of <strong>the</strong> person’s needs ra<strong>the</strong>r 

than deficits (Schalock et al., 1994). 

Paradigm shifts may be critical to advancement 

and improvement in any field of endeavor. 

Thomas Kuhn (1962), in his classic 

book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, defined 

paradigms as shared world views. Kuhn 

argued that <strong>the</strong>se shared views eventually become 

so strong and institutionized that only a 

sudden and dramatic break from <strong>the</strong>se conventional 

perspectives can bring on a positive 

revolution in thinking. 

It must be recognized, however, that unlike 

physics, where a paradigm shift from <strong>the</strong>

world view of Newton to that of Einstein did 

nothing to change <strong>the</strong> reality of <strong>the</strong> physical 

universe, a paradigm shift in mental retardation 

is likely to have profound implications for 

<strong>the</strong> education, care and treatment of millions 

of human beings. 

The effort to define mental retardation in a 

way that is scientifically accurate has been continuous 

for centuries. The effort to define it in 

a way that promotes greater sensitivity to <strong>the</strong> 

needs of people described by <strong>the</strong> term has also 

been continuous. A scientifically sound and 

socially helpful definition of <strong>the</strong> term mental 

retardation, however, may not be achievable. 

Perhaps <strong>the</strong> paradigm shift that is needed is 

an even more dramatic one than that which 

was achieved in <strong>the</strong> 1992 AAMR manual. What 

shift might best serve <strong>the</strong> interests of <strong>the</strong> people 

who are and those who could be defined 

in <strong>the</strong> future as having mental retardation? 

The most positive paradigm shift might be <strong>the</strong> 

deconstruction of mental retardation. The 

best definition of mental retardation may be 

no definition. 

In my opinion, it is time to admit that <strong>the</strong> 

term mental retardation is, to use Ssasz’s 

words “scientifically worthless and socially 

harmful.” It is time to face <strong>the</strong> reality that it is 

a manifestation of typological reasoning that 

has created a false and unhelpful categorization 

of people with very diverse needs and 

characteristics. Perhaps <strong>the</strong> plurality of <strong>the</strong> 

term developmental disabilities would better 

describe <strong>the</strong> heterogeneity of <strong>the</strong> people who 

have been labeled mentally retarded. It would 

be a more accurate term, and it would likely 

be less stigmatizing because of its generality. 

Although <strong>the</strong> implications of abandoning 

<strong>the</strong> term for resource allocations and <strong>the</strong> provision 

of services must be carefully addressed, 

<strong>the</strong> term mental retardation should become 

an historical artifact of <strong>the</strong> evolution of our 

thinking about children and adults with developmental 

disabilities. The millions of people 

within <strong>the</strong> spectrum of developmental disabilities 

who have been described as mentally retarded 

deserve this change in <strong>the</strong> manner in 

which <strong>the</strong>y are regarded and treated. A disassembling 

of <strong>the</strong> aggregation that mental retardation 

is may provide an opportunity to enhance 

our vision of who <strong>the</strong>se people are as 

individuals, and our understanding of <strong>the</strong>ir 

rightful place in our communities. 

Last January, I received <strong>the</strong> ballot concerning 

<strong>the</strong> name change of <strong>the</strong> MRDD <strong>Division</strong> of 

CEC. I voted in favor of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> of Developmental 

Disabilities title, I hoped that <strong>the</strong> 

change would occur. I also hoped that <strong>the</strong> 

movement away from <strong>the</strong> term mental retardation 

would provide us an opportunity to 

enhance our understanding of <strong>the</strong> people 

who have been described by <strong>the</strong> term, and our 

appreciation of <strong>the</strong>ir rightful place in <strong>the</strong> human 

community. Our division did <strong>the</strong> right 

thing. We have helped our world, I believe, 

take <strong>the</strong> first critical steps toward forgetting an 

invented disease, toward abandoning <strong>the</strong> 

myth of mental retardation. 

References 

Blatt, B. (1987). The conquest of mental retardation. 

Austin, TX: Pro-Ed. 

Blatt, B. (1999). In search of <strong>the</strong> promised land: The collected 

papers of Burton Blatt. Washington, DC: AAMR. 

Gelb, S. (1997). The problem of typological thinking 

in mental retardation. Mental Retardation, 35, 

448–457. 

Holmes, O. W. (1881). The common law. Boston: 

Little, Brown. 

Kuhn, T. (1962). The structure of scientific revolutions. 

Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. 

London, J. (1916). Told in <strong>the</strong> drooling ward. In 

Turtles of Tosman. New York: Macmillan. 

Luckasson, R., Coulter, L., Polloway, E. A., Reiss, S., 

Schalock, R. L., Snell, M. E., Spitalnik, D. M., & 

Stark, J. A. (1992). Mental retardation: Definition, 

classification, and systems of supports. Washington, 

DC: American Association on Mental Retardation. 

Sarason, S. (1985). Psychology and mental retardation: 

Perspectives in change. Austin, TX: PRO-ED. 

Schalock, R., Coulter, D., Polloway, E., Reiss, S., 

Snell, M., Spitalnik, D., & Stark, J. (1994). The 

changing conception of mental retardation: Implications 

for <strong>the</strong> field. Mental Retardation, 32, 

181–193. 

Smith, J. D., & Mitchell, A. (2001). ’Me? I’m not a 

drooler. I’m <strong>the</strong> assistant’: Is it time to abandon 

mental retardation as a classification? Mental Retardation, 

39, 144–146. 

Smith, J. D., & Nelson, K. (1989). The sterilization of 

Carrie Buck. Far Hills, NJ: New Horizon Press. 

Smith, J. D. (1985). Minds made feeble: The myth and 

legacy of <strong>the</strong> Kallikaks. Rockville, MD: Aspen. 

Ssasz, T. (1961). The myth of mental illness: Foundations of 

a <strong>the</strong>ory of personal conduct. New York: Harper. 

Trent, J. W. (1994). Inventing <strong>the</strong> feeble-minded: A 

history of mental retardation in <strong>the</strong> United States. 

Berkeley: University of California Press. 

Abandoning <strong>the</strong> Myth / 361



Written Language Profile of Children and Youth with 

Asperger Syndrome: From Research to Practice 

Brenda Smith Myles 

University of Kansas 

Maleia Rome-Lake 

Coastal Therapy Services, Inc. 

Gena P. Barnhill 

North Kansas City Public Schools 

Abigail Huggins 

Blue Valley Public Schools 

Taku Hagiwara 


Deborah E. Griswold 


Abstract: The current study investigated written language skills of children and youth with Asperger Syndrome 

(AS). Sixteen children and youth with AS and 16 neurotypical peers were compared on a standardized test of 

written language skills and legibility of handwriting. To investigate more detailed characteristics, informal 

analyses were also made for written samples from <strong>the</strong>se standardized tests. In written language skills, significant 

differences were not found between standardized scores of both groups; however, in hand writing skills, <strong>the</strong> group 

of individuals with AS produced significantly less legible letters and words than <strong>the</strong> neurotypical group. 

Informal analyses of written samples fur<strong>the</strong>r reveal that <strong>the</strong> group of children and youth with AS appear to be 

able write quantitatively similar to <strong>the</strong>ir neurotypical peers with using grammatical rules but had difficulty 

producing qualitative writing. Implications for translating research to practice in teaching writing skills for 

children and youth with AS are discussed. 

Much of what we know about <strong>the</strong> school functioning 

of individuals with Asperger Syndrome 

(AS) comes from Hans Asperger’s writings 

in <strong>the</strong> 1940’s. He quantified <strong>the</strong> academic 

performance of children and adolescents he 

worked with as uneven at best and many who 

had intelligence quotients that were above average 

failed core academic subjects. According 

to Asperger, “The very same children who 

can astonish <strong>the</strong>ir teachers with <strong>the</strong>ir advanced 

and clever answers fail miserably at 

<strong>the</strong>ir lessons” (Asperger, 1991, p. 75). Within 

this uneven profile, Asperger commented on 

<strong>the</strong> writing deficiencies seen in those he studied. 

Years later debate exists on <strong>the</strong> quality 

and quantity of composition and handwriting 

skills produced by children and youth with AS. 

The few empirical studies conducted in this 


be addressed to Brenda Smith Myles, Department of 

Special Education, University of Kansas, Joseph R. 

Pearson Hall, 1122 West Campus Road, Room 521, 

Lawrence, KS 66045-3101. 


area have had equivocal findings. For example, 

Gross (1994) reported that while individuals 

with AS had no specific areas of academic 

skills that were strong or weak penmanship, 

difficulties were common for many children 

with AS. For example, Gross (1994) described 

Paul, a seven-year old with, AS, by stating, “His 

work – written work in particular – was very 

slow. . . . His drawings and handwriting were 

uncoordinated” (p. 104). She fur<strong>the</strong>r indicated 

that composition and handwriting skills 

are generally recognized as problematic for 

children and youth with AS. 

That same year, Ghaziuddin, Butler, Tsai, 

and Ghaziuddin (1994), reported on motor 

skills of 11 individuals with AS. They found 

that both fine and gross motor skills were 

impaired as measured by a norm-referenced 

standardized motor assessment. Ghaziuddin 

et al. fur<strong>the</strong>r reported that children and youth 

with AS experienced significant difficulties 

with <strong>the</strong>se skills as compared to neurotypical 

peers. 

The work of Gross (1994) and Ghaziuddin

and colleagues (1994) was followed by <strong>the</strong> first 

investigation of <strong>the</strong> composition and handwriting 

skills of students with AS in a school 

setting (Church, Alisanski, & Amanullah, 

2000). Church and colleagues used a review of 

student records to identify <strong>the</strong> handwriting 

patterns of 39 elementary-aged children and 

youth with AS. Anecdotal reports in <strong>the</strong> students’ 

files indicated that overall handwriting 

was an extremely challenging task for most of 

<strong>the</strong> students and many were provided with 

paraprofessionals to help with this task. 

Church et al. found that, “Several children 

were very slow and meticulous workers, obsessive 

about every single detail. A few teachers 

reported that <strong>the</strong> students would erase <strong>the</strong>ir 

work so many times, trying to make it perfect, 

that <strong>the</strong>y left holes in <strong>the</strong>ir papers” (p. 16). 

Over one-half received occupational <strong>the</strong>rapy 

to address fine motor skills such as pencil 

grasp and handwriting. This pattern seemed 

to continue into high school. Reporting on a 

sample of five students with AS in high school, 

Church et al. report that: 

English (language arts) was <strong>the</strong> most difficult 

subject for all five boys, especially because 

of <strong>the</strong> creative and analytical writing 

required. The boys found it very difficult to 

organize thoughts, start and end thoughts, 

or develop essays that required drawing 

from o<strong>the</strong>r learning. All five boys found 

writing to be physically challenging. Three 

of <strong>the</strong> five used laptop computers almost 

exclusively for completing assignments. 

Their handwriting was almost illegible. This 

is interesting to note because one of <strong>the</strong> 

boys was a gifted (drawing) artist and ano<strong>the</strong>r 

was a gifted piano player, and nei<strong>the</strong>r 

had trouble with those activities (p. 19). 

A pattern of composition and handwriting 

problems in individuals with AS was not evident 

in an investigation of writing skills conducted 

by Griswold, Barnhill, Myles, Hagiwara, 

and Simpson (2002). Twenty-five 

children and adolescents with AS were administered 

<strong>the</strong> norm-referenced and standardized 

Wechsler Individual Achievement Test (The Psychological 

Corporation, 1992) in an attempt 

to identify performance patterns. Student aggregate 

performance on <strong>the</strong> Writing Composite 

(mean 99.22; SD 18.99) was within <strong>the</strong> 

average range as were <strong>the</strong> scores of <strong>the</strong> two 

subtests that comprised <strong>the</strong> composite score 

(Written Expression mean 90.36, SD 

18.90; Spelling mean 98.92, SD 16.12). 

The authors noted that one participant refused 

to take <strong>the</strong> Written Expression subtest 

and four students did not complete <strong>the</strong> 

subtest because of fatigue, expiration of <strong>the</strong> 

test session and an inability to reschedule additional 

testing time. 

Thus, <strong>the</strong> body of literature appears to 

present a somewhat contradictory profile of 

<strong>the</strong> written expression skills of children and 

youth with AS. The purposes of this study were 

to analyze written language samples of adolescents 

with AS using both formal and informal 

measures, and to identify effective means of 

providing written language instruction for 

children and youth with AS. 

Method 

Participants 

Sixteen children and adolescents with AS and 

16 neurotypical peers participated in this 

study, which was a part of a more extensive 

study conducted by a large midwestern university. 

All participants resided in a large midwestern 

community. Participants with AS included 

15 males and one female who ranged 

in age from 8-years, 0-months to 16-years, 

4-months (mean 11-years, 7-months). Fourteen 

males and two females whose ages 

ranged from 8-years, 2-months to 16-years, 

1-month (mean 11-years 6-months) comprised 

<strong>the</strong> neurotypical peer group. All were 

Caucasian and had been diagnosed by a licensed 

psychiatrist using DSM-IV criteria 

(APA, 1994). Participants with AS had a mean 

Verbal IQ score of 103.00 (SD 25.59); mean 

Performance IQ score of 102.33 (SD 24.58); 

and a mean Full Scale IQ score of 103.08 (SD 

24.96) on <strong>the</strong> Wechsler Intelligence Scale for 

Children -Third Edition (Wechsler, 1991). 

Instruments 

Instruments used were <strong>the</strong> Test of Written Language 

(TOWL-3; Hammill & Larsen, 1996) 

and <strong>the</strong> Evaluation Tool of Children’s Handwriting 

(Amundson, 1995). In addition, <strong>the</strong> written 

language sample generated by students 

Written Language and AS / 363

who completed <strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 was analyzed informally. 

Test of Written Language. The TOWL-3 is a 

norm-referenced measure designed to identify 

students who have difficulty in writing that 

requires special assistance, determine students’ 

strengths and weaknesses in writing, 

and document progress in writing achievement 

through assessment of <strong>the</strong> three components 

of written language: conventions, linguistics, 

and cognition (Hammill & Larsen, 

1996). It assesses writing through both contrived 

formats that focus on isolated units of 

writing (i.e., spelling, capitalization, punctuation, 

and word usage) and spontaneous samples 

that assess students’ ability to write meaningfully. 

The TOWL-3 contains eight subtests 

and three composite scores that measure <strong>the</strong> 

foundation of writing. The mean standard 

score for <strong>the</strong> subtests is 10 (SD 3) and 100 

(SD 15) for <strong>the</strong> composite scores. Table 1 

describes <strong>the</strong> subtests and composites that are 

represented in this measure. 

Informal analysis of written language samples. 

An informal analysis of <strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 written 

language samples was conducted to measure 

<strong>the</strong> complexity of <strong>the</strong> work products. Analysis 

contained elements mirrored in <strong>the</strong> majority 

TABLE 1 

Description of TOWL-3 

of research conducted in this area: (a) indices 

of total morphemes, t-units, sentences, and 

words; and (b) sentence complexity as measured 

by use of complex and simple t-units, 

fragments, and simple, compound, and compound/complex 

sentences (Gregg, 1982, 

1986; Gregg, Coleman, Stennet, & Davis, 

2002; Gregg, Hoy, McAlexander, & Hayes, 

1991; McGill-Franzen, 1979). 

Evaluation Tool of Children’s Handwriting 

(ETCH). The ETCH (Amundson, 1995) is a 

norm-referenced measure used to evaluate 

legibility and/or speed of writing tasks that 

are similar to those performed in <strong>the</strong> classroom. 

It measures letter, word, and number 

legibility; letter and word formation; letter 

and word spacing; and letter size and alignment 

in individual sentences and composition. 

Each is assessed using <strong>the</strong> following criteria: 

(a) it is recognized at first glance out of 

context; (b) it is not distorted, reversed, rotated 

or poorly formed; (c) parts are not omitted 

or properly closed; (d) overlap does not 

occur or share parts with o<strong>the</strong>r characters; (e) 

it is not confused for o<strong>the</strong>r letters or words; or 

(e) it is not omitted or misplaced. 

The spontaneous writing portion of <strong>the</strong> 

TOWL-3 was excerpted and analyzed for legi- 

Subtests 

Vocabulary A sentence is written that contains a stimulus word to demonstrate 

understanding of <strong>the</strong> meaning of that word 

Spelling Spelling is evaluated in a dictated sentence 

Style Punctuation and capitalization is measured in dictated sentences 

Logical Sentences A dictated sentence is edited for meaning 

Sentence Combining Two or more short sentences are combined into one sentence 

Contextual Conventions Capitalization, punctuation, and spelling are assessed in a story generated 

from a visual stimulus 

Contextual Language Vocabulary, sentence construction, and grammar are evaluated in a written 

language sample generated from a picture 

Story Construction Plot, prose, character development, and o<strong>the</strong>r composition constructs are 

assessed in a spontaneous written language sample 

Composites 

Overall Writing Vocabulary, spelling, style, logical sentences, sentence combining, contextual 

conventions, contextual language, and story construction in dictated and 

spontaneous written language samples 

Contrived Writing Vocabulary, spelling, style, logical sentences and sentence combining in 

dictated samples 

Spontaneous Writing Contextual conventions, contextual language, and story construction in a 

written language sample from a picture stimulus 

364 / Education and Training in Developmental Disabilities-December 2003

ility, spacing, and alignment according to <strong>the</strong> 

criteria outlined in <strong>the</strong> ETCH manual. Scoring 

criteria were followed according to ETCH 

Task VII, Sentence Composition criteria outlined 

in Table 2. The occupational <strong>the</strong>rapist 

who scored <strong>the</strong> writing samples using <strong>the</strong> 

ETCH was trained over three two-hour sessions 

as was a second licensed occupational 

<strong>the</strong>rapist who had an undergraduate degree 

in occupational <strong>the</strong>rapy and a graduate degree 

in AS/autism who established interrater 

reliability. Scorer reliability was determined by 

completion of <strong>the</strong> ETCH-Manuscript Tutorial 

with a pass rate of 90% on <strong>the</strong> two competence 

quizzes recommended in <strong>the</strong> manual. 

TABLE 2 

Etch Scoring Criteria 

Procedure 

The 16 children and youth with AS were part 

of a comprehensive research study on AS conducted 

by a large midwestern university. Participants 

were located through use of a database 

of members of a parent support group 

for families of individuals with AS. Letters 

were sent to <strong>the</strong> membership informing <strong>the</strong>m 

of <strong>the</strong> study. 

Convenience sampling was used to recruit 

neurotypical peers. That is, 16 peers matched 

for age and gender were recruited from one 

of <strong>the</strong> schools in <strong>the</strong> Midwest suburban com- 

Numeral Legibility 

11. It is not easily and quickly recognized out of context and at first glance. 

12. It is poorly formed, distorted, reserved or greatly rotated. 

13. It has additional, extraneous parts and/or dark writings over poor erasures; 

14. Parts are omitted or improperly closed; 

15. Numerals are joined, share <strong>the</strong> same part, or overlap to form individual 

numbers; 

16. It is confused for ano<strong>the</strong>r letter or numeral or a group of letters or numerals; 

17. It is omitted or misplaced in sequence. 

Lower-case Legibility 

1. It is not easily and quickly recognized out of context and at first glance; 

2. It is poorly formed, distorted, reversed, or greatly rotated; 

3. All of its descender is on or above <strong>the</strong> writing baseline; 

4. It has additional, extraneous parts and/or dark writings over poor erasures; 


6. Letters are joined, share <strong>the</strong> same part, or overlap to form individual letters; 

7. It is confused for ano<strong>the</strong>r letter or numeral; 

8. It is confused for a group of letters or numerals; 

9. The entire letter is omitted or misplaced in sequence. 

Upper-case Letter Legibility 

1. It is not easily or quickly recognized out of context and at first glance; 

2. It is poorly formed, distorted, reversed or greatly rotated; 

3. It has additional extraneous parts and/or dark writings over poor erasures; 


5. Letters are joined, share <strong>the</strong> same part, or overlap to form individual letters; 

6. It is confused for ano<strong>the</strong>r letter or numeral; 

7. It is confused for a group of letters or numerals; 

8. The entire letter is omitted or misplaced in sequenced. 

Composed Word 

1. Word is not quickly, easily and correctly read as <strong>the</strong> intended word; 

2. Word is confused for ano<strong>the</strong>r word; 

3. Intended word is not phonetically or alphabetically spelled appropriately; 

4. Extraneous letters and forms are in <strong>the</strong> word; 

5. Word includes cursive letters; 

6. Word is poorly erased and rewritten; 

7. Word is omitted or misplaced in sentence. 


munity from where participants with AS were 

recruited. 

Interested parents contacted <strong>the</strong> researchers 

expressing <strong>the</strong>ir willingness (and that of 

<strong>the</strong>ir child) to participate. Upon agreement to 

participate in <strong>the</strong> project and prior to testing, 

parents completed a consent form and provided 

demographic information. Student assessments 

were administered individually in a 

clinical setting. Testing sessions were held in a 

small classroom with worktables, adequate 

lighting and minimal auditory and visual distractions. 

Graduate students enrolled in an 

AS/autism graduate program who were 

trained in <strong>the</strong> administration of standardized 

measures and had extensive experience administered 

<strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 assessments. Graduate 

students were members of <strong>the</strong> AS Assessment 

Team and had received in-depth 

training in AS through academic study and 

practica experiences. 

A graduate student seeking graduate degrees 

in speech-language pathology and AS/ 

autism scored <strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 protocols. A licensed 

occupational <strong>the</strong>rapist with an 

undergraduate degree in occupational <strong>the</strong>rapy 

and was completing a graduate degree in 

AS/autism scored <strong>the</strong> written language samples 

using <strong>the</strong> ETCH. Interrater reliability was 

established by a second licensed occupational 

<strong>the</strong>rapist that had an undergraduate degree 

in occupational <strong>the</strong>rapy and a graduate degree 

in AS/autism. 

Reliability 

Reliability checks were performed on 20% of 

<strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 protocols. Interrater reliability 

was computed at 100%. Six of <strong>the</strong> 24 written 

language samples scored using <strong>the</strong> ETCH 

were analyzed for interrater reliability. Word 

legibility reliability was 92% and letter legibility 

reliability was 96.5%. Interrater reliability 

was determined by dividing number of agreements 

by total number of items and multiplying 

by 100. 

Results 

Analysis of TOWL-3 Assessment 

Although students with AS scored higher than 

<strong>the</strong>ir nondisabled peers on four of <strong>the</strong> eight 

subtests, no significant differences existed in 

<strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 subtests or composite scores obtained 

by children and youth with AS and 

<strong>the</strong>ir neurotypical counterparts. As shown in 

Table 2, both groups performed in <strong>the</strong> average 

range on this measure. Children with AS 

received a mean Overall Writing score of 

99.38 (SD 19.14) while <strong>the</strong>ir peers’ average 

score on this composite was 99.81 (SD 

10.13). Table 3 provides an overview of <strong>the</strong> 

subtests and composite scores for both 

groups. 

Informal Analysis of <strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 Written 

Language Sample 

As shown in Table 4, neurotypical students 

produced significantly more morphemes than 

did <strong>the</strong>ir peers with AS (t -3.563; p .05). In 

fact, morphemes generated by <strong>the</strong> participants 

without disabilities nearly doubled that 

of <strong>the</strong>ir counterparts with AS. A similar pattern 

was seen in t-unit production with neurotypical 

peers generating a mean of 14.5 t-units 

(SD 5.38) and 139.25 words (SD 49.39), 

to <strong>the</strong> 9.31 t-units (SD 5.50), 77.69 words 

(SD 47.07) written by those with AS. The 

two groups, however, did not differ in <strong>the</strong> 

number of sentences <strong>the</strong>y wrote (t -.92; p 

.05). Students without disabilities created an 

average of 10.88 sentences (SD 4.82) and 

participants with AS wrote a mean of 8.94 

sentences (SD 6.97). 

Analysis of ETCH Results 


Manuscript handwriting of 12 of <strong>the</strong> 16 students 

with AS was analyzed using <strong>the</strong> ETCH. 

The remaining four students had written <strong>the</strong>ir 

samples using cursive writing which could not 

be analyzed using <strong>the</strong> ETCH protocol. The 

written language samples of four neurotypical 

students were also excluded from <strong>the</strong> study. 

Students whose writing was not analyzed were 

matched by age and gender to <strong>the</strong> adolescents 

with AS whose protocols were not scored. 

A t test revealed that a significant difference 

existed in <strong>the</strong> percent of legible letters generated 

by <strong>the</strong> two groups (t -3.19; p .05) with 

89.84% and 75.02% of legible letters written 

by <strong>the</strong> adolescents without AS and those with 

AS, respectively. A similar pattern was seen in 

legible word production (t -2.74, p .05).

TABLE 3 

Scores of Students with AS and <strong>the</strong>ir Neurotypical Peers on <strong>the</strong> TOWL-3 

Specifically, 87.80% of <strong>the</strong> words generated by 

students without AS were legible while only 

71.09% of <strong>the</strong> words written by individuals 

with AS met <strong>the</strong> same criteria. As shown in 

Table 5, significant differences existed in <strong>the</strong> 

letter alignment, formation, size and spacing 

of <strong>the</strong> two groups with neurotypical youth 

making significantly fewer errors in three of 

<strong>the</strong> four categories. 

Discussion 

TOWL-3 

Administration of <strong>the</strong> norm-referenced standardized 

TOWL-3 revealed that as a group, 

Asperger Syndrome Neurotypical 

Mean Score SD Mean Score SD 

Subtests 

Vocabulary 9.94 2.52 10.38 2.47 .45 

Spelling 10.31 2.82 9.63 1.96 .71 

Style 9.88 3.90 10.13 2.06 .20 

Logical Sentences 9.25 3.34 8.94 1.39 .31 

Sentence Combining 9.81 3.39 9.00 1.79 .81 

Contextual Conventions 10.31 3.05 9.81 2.99 .45 

Contextual Language 8.94 3.38 10.38 2.22 1.19 

Story Construction 10.69 3.22 11.81 1.76 .99 

Composites 

Contrived Writing 98.25 18.69 95.63 12.79 .39 

Spontaneous Writing 100.88 20.10 104.25 10.85 .51 

Overall Writing 99.38 19.14 99.81 10.13 .07 

TABLE 4 

t-test 

students with AS performed similarly to individuals 

without disabilities. Without fur<strong>the</strong>r 

investigation, it could be concluded that students 

with AS do not need additional assistance 

in written composition skills. However, a 

visual analysis of <strong>the</strong> data reveals that participants 

with AS demonstrated more variability 

in <strong>the</strong>ir written language performance than 

did neurotypical peers as evidenced by <strong>the</strong> 

standard deviation scores of <strong>the</strong> six subtests, 

conventions, and composite scores on <strong>the</strong> 

TOWL-3. When individuals with AS are compared 

to neurotypical individuals solely 

through analysis of aggregate data, erroneous 

Informal Analysis of <strong>the</strong> Written Language Samples of Students with AS and <strong>the</strong>ir Neurotypical Peers 

Written Language Component 


Mean Score SD Mean Score SD 

Total morphemes 87.25 54.04 156.06 55.20 3.56* 

Total t-units 9.31 5.50 14.50 5.38 2.70* 

Total words 77.69 47.07 139.25 49.39 3.61* 

Total sentences 8.94 6.97 10.88 4.82 .92 

Sentence fragments (%) 9.82 17.55 1.09 3.29 1.96 

Run-ons (%) 25.04 39.33 18.36 25.00 .57 

Simple sentences (%) 65.78 40.60 54.15 28.23 .94 

Compound sentences (%) 6.19 10.17 17.69 18.71 2.16* 

Compound/complex sentences (%) 1.98 4.53 2.08 8.33 .04 

* significant at .05 level. 

t-test 


TABLE 5 

Analysis of <strong>the</strong> Manuscript Writing of Students with AS and <strong>the</strong>ir Neurotypical Peers 

ETCH Component 

conclusions may be drawn and a wealth of 

information regarding within group differences 

may be overlooked. 

Informal analysis revealed a different and 

perhaps more informative picture of <strong>the</strong> students’ 

skills. Students with AS demonstrated 

that <strong>the</strong>y can produce sentences similar in 

number to <strong>the</strong>ir peers, but sentences generated 

are brief and not as complex as demonstrated 

by <strong>the</strong> number of morphemes, t-units, 

and words. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, students with AS do 

understand rules of sentence construction as 

evidenced by run-ons and sentence fragments 

that were not different than <strong>the</strong>ir peers. 

Although <strong>the</strong> sample size in this study limits 

its generalization, <strong>the</strong>se data serve to increase 

<strong>the</strong> knowledge base in <strong>the</strong> area of academic 

profiles in Asperger Syndrome. Individuals 

with AS demonstrated considerable variability 

in <strong>the</strong>ir written language scores when compared 

to <strong>the</strong> group with AS and <strong>the</strong> nondisabled 

peers. Future research efforts may focus 

on analyzing differences within <strong>the</strong> group of 

individuals with AS and also on analyzing <strong>the</strong> 

differences within individual student’s test 

profiles. 

Implications for Practice 

These findings have implications for formal 

education and suggest that instruction for individuals 

with AS may need to focus on teaching 

elaboration of thoughts in written form 

ra<strong>the</strong>r than on <strong>the</strong> writing conventions such as 

punctuation and spelling. 

1. This study supports what we all know, 

namely that programming suggestions 


Mean Score Range Mean Score Range 

Letter Formation 31.40 (28.40) 2.20–96.90 9.60 (5.20) 2.50–26.80 2.58* 

Letter Size 0 (0) — .10 (.10) — 2.21* 

Letter Alignment 2.80 (4.60) 0–14.30 .10 (.20) 0–5.00 3.61* 

Letter Spacing 5.50 (8.80) 0–31.20 1.80 (2.70) 0–8.80 .18 

Note. Component scores were calculated as a percent of legible letters. Mean percents are presented; 

standard deviations are in paren<strong>the</strong>ses. * significant at .05 level. 


t-test 

cannot be drawn from norm-referenced 

standardized measures. Norm-referenced 

standardized measures were not designed 

for this purpose; ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y were designed 

to indicate student performance as 

compared to a norm. 

2. Examination of <strong>the</strong> student’s intrasubtest 

variability is suggested so that a more comprehensive 

picture of strengths and weaknesses 

can be determined. This information 

is critical to <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> 

student’s individual education program. 

3. Educators and practitioners need to be 

aware that when students with AS perform 

in <strong>the</strong> average range of a norm-referenced 

measure, it may not be suggestive of “average” 

performance nor is it an indicator 

that <strong>the</strong>y do not need specialized instruction 

or support. Fur<strong>the</strong>r analysis is needed 

to correctly identify student needs. 

4. Having a scribe write <strong>the</strong> student’s verbal 

responses may also be considered in future 

evaluation and research efforts to determine 

if <strong>the</strong> lower written language 

scores are due to lack of embellished 

thoughts or a motoric problem in getting 

<strong>the</strong> thoughts on paper. This, of course, 

would be accomplished by a complete 

evaluation of motor skills. 

5. The process of writing may be so taxing 

for a writer with AS that it might limit <strong>the</strong> 

student’s ability to prepare written 

projects commensurate with <strong>the</strong>ir ability. 

Perhaps having <strong>the</strong> student tape record 

his or her verbal responses, which may be 

more elaborate than <strong>the</strong>ir written product, 

and <strong>the</strong>n copy <strong>the</strong> tape–recorded re-

sponses onto paper may increase elaboration 

and <strong>the</strong> number of words used. 

6. Provide instruction on sentence and paragraph 

construction, including information 

on sentence fragments and run-ons. 

Consider using pre-constructed paragraphs 

as media for practice in recognizing 

construction errors. 

7. Teach <strong>the</strong> concepts of writing drafts and 

proofreading so students can learn to 

write content first and focus on mechanics 

second. 

8. Teach students with AS how to elaborate 

within written projects by using <strong>the</strong>ir own 

samples. 

9. Motivate students to write by encouraging 

<strong>the</strong>m to write about <strong>the</strong>ir special interests. 

10. If repeated instruction in penmanship focusing 

on letter formation, size, and alignment 

has not resulted in increased legibility, 

alternatives to handwriting, such as 

<strong>the</strong> use of a computer or word processor, 

may need to be explored. 

References 

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Washington, DC: Author. 

Amundson, S. (1995). Evaluation Tool of Children’s 

Handwriting. Homer, AK: O.T. Kids. 

Asperger, H. (1991). ‘Autistic psychopathy’ in childhood. 

In U. Frith (Ed. & Trans.), Autism and 

Asperger Syndrome (pp. 37–92). New York: Cambridge 

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Syndrome? <strong>Journal</strong> of Intellectual Disability Research, 

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(2002). Discourse complexity of college writers 

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(1991). Written sentence production error patterns 

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Corporation. 




Family Perceptions of Transitions in Early Intervention 

David L. Lovett and Kathryn A. Haring 

University of Oklahoma 

Abstract: This article explores three broad <strong>the</strong>mes about transitions that have emerged in a naturalistic study 

of experiences of families with young children with disabilities. Generalizations regarding early transitions 

include families going through a birth crisis have difficulty understanding all <strong>the</strong> information <strong>the</strong>y are 

provided. Not only is <strong>the</strong>ir role unclear (“Should I stay with <strong>the</strong> mo<strong>the</strong>r or follow <strong>the</strong> baby?”), familiarity with 

medical technology is typically limited. In a crisis state <strong>the</strong> mind may take in nothing more once it accepts <strong>the</strong> 

concept of an extremely critical or life threatening condition. In addition, mo<strong>the</strong>rs who have had emergency 

Cesarean sections are struggling through pain medication and <strong>the</strong>ir own trauma. Secondly, parents may not 

feel comfortable assessing <strong>the</strong>ir abilities to care for <strong>the</strong>ir children as <strong>the</strong>y transition from <strong>the</strong> hospital to home. 

Finally, <strong>the</strong> transition from home-based early intervention to center-based preschool can cause anxiety for 

parents. An IEP meeting may be <strong>the</strong> first introduction into <strong>the</strong> world of special education. Formality of public 

schooling involves new learning such as definitions, categories, and placement decisions. 

Transition is <strong>the</strong> process of change in service 

delivery systems and life circumstances. Numerous 

authors have discussed factors that 

support successful transitions for families with 

young children with disabilities (Rosenkoetter, 

Hains, & Fowler, 1994; Trivette, Dunst, 

Boyd, & Hamby, 1996; Wolery, 1993). However, 

empirical research recording parents’ 

perceptions of <strong>the</strong> transition process is limited 

and largely composed of survey data (Hanline, 

1988). The present research was undertaken 

to explore families’ experiences and perceptions 

of transitions that take place during <strong>the</strong> 

early childhood years. 

This research examined family perceptions 

of three major early intervention (EI) transitions. 

The first transition was during <strong>the</strong> birth 

crisis and involved transporting <strong>the</strong> baby to a 

neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). The second 

transition was from <strong>the</strong> NICU to home, 

and <strong>the</strong> third involved <strong>the</strong> movement from EI 

Data collection for this paper was supported in 

part by <strong>the</strong> US Department of Education Grant 

#HO23C10103. The content and opinions expressed 

herein do not necessarily reflect <strong>the</strong> position 

or policy of <strong>the</strong> funding agency. Correspondence 

concerning this article should be addressed 

to David L. Lovett, Department of Educational Psychology, 

University of Oklahoma, 820 Van Vleet 

Oval, Norman, OK 73019. 


to preschool. In addition, results of this research 

indicate that o<strong>the</strong>r types of transitions 

are frequent in <strong>the</strong> lives of families with infants 

and young children with disabilities. 

Common methods for ascertaining <strong>the</strong> impact 

of service delivery on families use instruments 

to quantify such factors as social and 

resource supports, stress, needs, and program 

quality. These techniques provide narrow sets 

of data that are typically collected only once. 

This may leave <strong>the</strong> impression that states of 

being and perception are a constant and stable 

construct for measurement. A more accurate 

research assumption is that no situations 

or emotional states are constant for families. 

Families with young children with disabilities 

tend to go through many changes and transitions 

during <strong>the</strong> first few years of <strong>the</strong>ir children’s 

lives. The coping strategies <strong>the</strong>y adopt 

may have significant impact on <strong>the</strong> intensity, 

duration, variety, placement, and quality of 

<strong>the</strong> special services <strong>the</strong>ir children receive. For 

example, parents who do not accept <strong>the</strong>ir 

child’s disability may delay accessing EI services 

(Haring & Lovett, 1995). 

The very nature of a disability that can be 

identified at birth, or shortly <strong>the</strong>reafter, necessitates 

frequent and various contacts between 

family members and professionals from multiple 

disciplines. Changes in <strong>the</strong> types of services 

received and changes in <strong>the</strong> individuals

providing those services are stressful to families 

(Johnson, Chandler, Kerns, & Fowler, 

1986; Rosenkoetter et al., 1994; Turnbull & 

Turnbull, 2001; Winton & Bailey, 1988). Families 

of infants with disabilities seek security 

and stability but <strong>the</strong> nature of transition is 

change, and thus is inherently stressful (Haring 

& Lovett, 1995). This article describes 

transitions that families underwent during <strong>the</strong> 

early years of <strong>the</strong>ir children’s lives and provides 

suggestions for assisting families during 

transition. 

Method 

Findings presented in this paper are from <strong>the</strong> 

Family Systems Project, a longitudinal qualitative 

study. This research examined perceptions 

and experiences of parents and o<strong>the</strong>r 

family members of infants and toddlers who 

were identified at birth, or shortly <strong>the</strong>reafter, 

as having a disability. 

Procedure 

Qualitative interviews comprised <strong>the</strong> basic research 

strategy of this study (Kavale, 1996). 

The goal of <strong>the</strong>se qualitative interviews was to 

reflect family experiences, perceptions, and 

recollections relevant to caring for <strong>the</strong>ir identified 

infant/toddler. Interviews were conducted 

in family homes with questions shaped 

to prompt recall of topics like transition and 

family/professional relationships of importance 

to <strong>the</strong> researcher (Whyte, 1982). 

Key informants in <strong>the</strong> study were primarily 

mo<strong>the</strong>rs, fa<strong>the</strong>rs, extended family members, 

and close friends. Family members were interviewed 

at least twice a year over <strong>the</strong> five years 

of <strong>the</strong> study. In addition, a third interview was 

conducted each year with a significant o<strong>the</strong>r 

(e.g., an extended family member, service 

provider, friend, or neighbor) identified by 

<strong>the</strong> parents. Additional interviews, reviews of 

family photograph albums and memory 

books, participant observations, and records 

reviews allowed for <strong>the</strong> data to be triangulated 

from a variety of sources. That is, data from 

several sources was compared and contrasted 

to ensure validity, reliability, thoroughness, 

and alternative views in <strong>the</strong> data. 

Forty-four variables emerged from <strong>the</strong> interviews, 

participant observations, materials and 

record reviews, and researcher attendance at 

EI staff meetings and parent support groups. 

All interviews were audiotaped and <strong>the</strong>n transcribed. 

All interviewers were trained to develop 

critical interview skills and to ensure 

consistency across interviews. Interviewers 

were involved in identifying <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>mes, variables, 

and developing <strong>the</strong> interview protocol. 

Interviews were semi-structured. This allowed 

family members to elaborate on topics 

of interest to <strong>the</strong>m and thus, gain as much 

information about <strong>the</strong>ir perceptions and experiences 

as possible. Themes emerged and 

grounded <strong>the</strong>ory developed around four key 

topics. 

Communication. Questions in <strong>the</strong> interviews 

probed respondents regarding how <strong>the</strong>y 

were first informed about <strong>the</strong> condition or 

at-risk factors of <strong>the</strong>ir child. Initial communication 

with various professionals, information 

on transitions (e.g., from hospital to home, 

between different service agencies, etc.) was 

described. This is a large <strong>the</strong>me because communication 

is transactional. Entire interviews 

were consumed with initial reactions (e.g., 

parents, extended family, friends, neighbors, 

and o<strong>the</strong>rs). This <strong>the</strong>me broke down into two 

main types, professional and personal communications. 

The first involved how information 

was shared and received, contacts from 

professionals, referrals to additional services 

and resources, and suggestions for improved 

communication. Personal communication included 

reactions of family members and 

friends and interactions with persons in social 

support networks. 

Self-perception and coping. Questions focused 

on <strong>the</strong> process of realizations and adjustments 

to <strong>the</strong> child’s needs. This <strong>the</strong>me 

looked at adaptations in roles and relationships 

and how self-perceptions were affected. 

Exploring productive and less functional coping 

strategies utilized as family transitions 

changed self-concepts. 

Social support. Some questions explored if 

assistance (both professional and interpersonal) 

received was helpful, if support networks 

outside of <strong>the</strong> family (e.g., church, parent 

groups, <strong>the</strong>rapy, etc.) were introduced or 

sought, if <strong>the</strong> parents/families felt well supported 

through this process, and what was 

most troubling. 

Family Perceptions / 371

Needs assessment and services. Additional 

questions examined how family needs and 

strengths were assessed and addressed by professionals. 

How information ga<strong>the</strong>red impacted 

<strong>the</strong> nature of family involvement in <strong>the</strong> 

programs or services provided, and types and 

duration of special services. 

Reliability 

Traditional qualitative methods of purposeful 

sampling, member checking, and triangulation 

of multiple informants and data sources 

established <strong>the</strong> veracity, depth, and richness 

of data. However, quantitative techniques 

demonstrated reliability for each interviewer. 

A process of blind coding of interview transcripts 

for <strong>the</strong> 44 identified variables was used. 

Prior to reliability calculations, interviewers 

were trained to code, using actual interview 

transcripts. They discussed disagreements, alternative 

interpretations, and operational definitions 

for each variable. After training, interviewers 

conducted interviews and coded <strong>the</strong>m 

individually. The primary researcher also 

coded each interview and percent of agreement 

was calculated. Reliability scores ranged 

from 92% to 100%. No transcription or interview 

portion was entered into <strong>the</strong> computer 

program for analysis until triple coding (two 

interviewers and <strong>the</strong> primary researcher) had 

established 100% reliability. If 100% reliability 

was not attained on a specific variable, it was 

coded as unknown and not included in <strong>the</strong> 

analysis. 

Subjects 

Primary data collected for this study was from 

parents and key informants regarding 48 children 

who were identified at birth or shortly 

<strong>the</strong>reafter as eligible for state/federally provided 

services. Families were identified primarily 

through two large urban public hospitals 

that housed tertiary NICUs. Families 

resided in a largely rural south central state 

and <strong>the</strong> EI services mainly were provided 

through a statewide system. Some families 

sought services in one of <strong>the</strong> four adjoining 

states. In addition, a small number of families 


were in <strong>the</strong> military and reported on services 

from numerous states and countries. 

The sample was systematically selected to 

represent <strong>the</strong> characteristics of <strong>the</strong> state’s population 

and to obtain data from diverse home 

settings. Therefore, 72% of <strong>the</strong> families were 

Euro-western, 9% of families were Native 

American, 9% were African American, 6% 

were Hispanic, and 4% were Asian. 

Socioeconomic status of <strong>the</strong> families was 

distributed as follows: (a) 10% of families were 

professionals with some post-graduate education 

and incomes of $50,000 or above and had 

adequate insurance; (b) 23% of families were 

considered middle income ($30,000 to 

$50,000), in a low cost-of-living state, and one 

or both parents had some college education. 

They also had private insurance or employer 

covered benefits; (c) 25% of families were 

high school educated, some had vocational 

degrees or military training, <strong>the</strong>ir incomes 

ranged from $20,000 - $30,000. These families 

tended to need some form of government 

assistance such as SSI, WIC, Department of 

Human Services support for childcare, and 

Medicare or Medicaid. (d) 41% of families 

had very little income, ($12,000 or below) and 

experienced a high level of dependence on 

government supports. 

Geographic characteristics of subjects included: 

23% (11) resided in urban settings, 

26% (12) lived in suburban areas, 30% (14) 

lived in small towns, 17% (8) families lived in 

rural areas, and for two families this information 

was unknown (not agreed on with 100% 

reliability or moved frequently). These percentages 

mirror <strong>the</strong> geographic characteristics 

of <strong>the</strong> state population. 

Fifty-seven percent of children in <strong>the</strong> study 

were male and 43% were female. Diagnoses 

are listed in order of frequency, Down syndrome 

(13 or 28%); brain anomalies (12 or 

25%); anoxia or post neonatal traumatic brain 

injury (9 or 19%); complications from premature 

births (4 or 8%); myelomeningocele with 

myeloencephalic involvement (4 or 8%); 

three children experienced multiple sensory 

loss; two were considered generally developmentally 

delayed; and one was chemically dependent. 

Over 50% of <strong>the</strong> sample had multiple 

disabilities.

Results 

Birth Crisis 

One of <strong>the</strong> first <strong>the</strong>mes evident in this longitudinal 

research is that families undergo many 

different types of transitions. The first type of 

transition, reported by 73% of <strong>the</strong> families in 

<strong>the</strong> study, was <strong>the</strong> neonatal medical crisis. Instead 

of experiencing <strong>the</strong> joy of childbirth, 

many families were faced with a medical crisis, 

thus <strong>the</strong>y transitioned from a family celebration 

to a family crisis. Since <strong>the</strong>re were only 

two NICUs in <strong>the</strong> state where this study was 

conducted, when a birth crisis occurred at a 

regional hospital, <strong>the</strong> child was transported by 

helicopter (med-flighted) to one of <strong>the</strong> NICUs 

to receive necessary medical services. For many 

families, med-flighting <strong>the</strong> infant from <strong>the</strong> 

birth site was <strong>the</strong> initial physical as well as 

emotional transition. 

One mo<strong>the</strong>r described her experiences 

about this: 

Sometime in my 8th month I went into 

distress. It was not noticed. I was a week and 

a half past my due date. I had an ultrasound 

in my 7th month, and everything was fine. 

When I was a week and a half past due, I 

barely started dilating. I went into labor, my 

water never broke. I was in labor for about 

24 hours, very easy labor. I didn’t goto<strong>the</strong> 

hospital. I called <strong>the</strong> hospital at 6:30 Sunday 

morning on <strong>the</strong> 4th of February, and <strong>the</strong> 

doctor said it sounded like early labor. “You 

haven’t broke your water.” I said, “No”. I 

said, “I just haven’t felt it move in a while, 

he’s just so far down.” He said I had better 

come in. They put me on a monitor, and he 

was in distress. We don’t know what happened, 

but in my 8th month he began to 

shut down his bodily functions. His kidneys 

were no longer functioning. I had no fluid 

in me at all. So, <strong>the</strong>y took him C-Section, 

and when <strong>the</strong>y cut <strong>the</strong> cord he was not alive. 

It’s as though he fought for over a month 

just to lie <strong>the</strong>re inside me. They think <strong>the</strong> 

majority of <strong>the</strong> brain damage was done before 

birth. When <strong>the</strong>y cut <strong>the</strong> cord, he had 

had a bowel movement inside of me, so he 

had merconium in his lungs. So it was very, 

very difficult to resuscitate him. The Apgar 

scores usually goes from bad to better, and 

it went from bad to worse and worse. He 

had a zero on both Apgars. They took him 

into <strong>the</strong> nursery, and <strong>the</strong>y were resuscitating 

him for about five minutes and just 

about gave up. He responded . . .I forget 

what it was <strong>the</strong>y injected straight into his 

heart, but that’s what he responded to, and 

that was <strong>the</strong> last thing <strong>the</strong> doctor was going 

to do. They flew him to Children’s. They 

brought him in a little incubator that <strong>the</strong>y 

put in <strong>the</strong> helicopter. He was hooked up to 

machines and had tubes in him and down 

his throat. They said that <strong>the</strong>y thought I not 

only had to say hello to him but goodbye 

too because <strong>the</strong>y thought he was going to 

die. They thought he had Potters Syndrome 

because his kidneys were not functioning, 

which is fatal. 

For <strong>the</strong> families in this study, only <strong>the</strong> identified 

infant and necessary medical personnel 

were transported. The fa<strong>the</strong>r and o<strong>the</strong>r family 

members were torn between remaining with 

<strong>the</strong> recovering mo<strong>the</strong>r or attending to <strong>the</strong> 

critical condition of <strong>the</strong> transported baby. 

One mo<strong>the</strong>r described this situation: 

My dad and step-mom left when <strong>the</strong> helicopter 

left and went and stayed at Tulsa, 

since I couldn’t go. Billy (husband) 

wouldn’t leave me. It was hard to decide 

what to do. I wanted to go, and I couldn’t 

go. I wanted Billy to go, and he wouldn’t 

leave me. 

The 35 families who experienced birth crisis 

had infants readily identified as physically vulnerable 

and at-risk for surviving. Typically, 

medical personnel provided information to 

family members who were in crisis. Based on 

initial communication with medical personnel, 

family members experienced a general 

sense of confusion, dismay, and urgency. As a 

result, those who cared most about <strong>the</strong> well 

being of <strong>the</strong> infants received poorly understood 

messages from medical professionals 

concerning diagnosis, treatment, and prognosis. 

Of <strong>the</strong> families who experienced a birth 

crisis, 77% expressed negative reactions to 

how <strong>the</strong>y were treated during <strong>the</strong> medical crisis. 

Although all <strong>the</strong> parents in <strong>the</strong> higher 

income group felt <strong>the</strong>y were listened to by 

medical professionals, only 59% in <strong>the</strong> middle 

income group felt <strong>the</strong> same way, 55% of <strong>the</strong> 


working class families felt <strong>the</strong>ir concerns were 

heard, and only 40% of <strong>the</strong> families below <strong>the</strong> 

poverty level believed <strong>the</strong> medical personnel 

listened to <strong>the</strong>m. 

Transition from Hospital to Home 

Early transition, from hospital to home concerned 

<strong>the</strong> infants’ health status and parent 

comfort in caring for <strong>the</strong>ir babies. Developmental 

delay issues were secondary to family 

concerns about <strong>the</strong> children’s health and <strong>the</strong> 

families’ own security in handling <strong>the</strong>ir infants. 

Most families reported that <strong>the</strong>y received 

some type of transition support prior to bringing 

<strong>the</strong>ir children home. Most were invited to 

stay for two nights in <strong>the</strong> hospital and were 

expected to take over full care of <strong>the</strong>ir infants 

during this time. Almost all parents were 

trained in infant CPR and were instructed on 

how to use and maintain whatever medical 

technology <strong>the</strong>ir children needed. Of <strong>the</strong> families 

who had experienced a birth crisis and 

needed transition support to take <strong>the</strong>ir infants 

home, 51% reported <strong>the</strong>y were comfortable 

with <strong>the</strong> process. Many of <strong>the</strong> comfortable 

families perceived <strong>the</strong> homecoming as a celebratory 

event. Twenty-eight percent of <strong>the</strong> 

families felt uncomfortable bring <strong>the</strong>ir infants 

home and 21% had mixed feelings. The 

mixed feelings consisted of happiness that <strong>the</strong> 

children could come home but fear or anxiety 

about <strong>the</strong> degree of care <strong>the</strong>y would require. 

The following examples represent a range of 

comfort levels. 

A couple that did not receive specific training 

before <strong>the</strong>y transitioned home stated: 

There was this woman, a social service 

worker with Children’s. She didn’t like it 

that we didn’t know CPR, we really should 

have taken a CPR class before we took him 

home. She asked us all <strong>the</strong>se questions, and 

we felt like we were taking tests, and if we 

didn’t pass <strong>the</strong>m, we wouldn’t get to take 

him home. It was terrible. 

Parents with mixed comfort feelings had 

reflections like this mo<strong>the</strong>r: 

Oh, it was awful. So we got him home, and 

I was like, nobody touch him. I was so paranoid 

when we first brought him home. He 

had really been through <strong>the</strong> wringer at <strong>the</strong> 

hospital. They had put IV’s in his head because 

his feet and hands were getting so 

swollen. So he had a Mohawk when he came 

home because <strong>the</strong>y had shaved both sides of 

his head. So he was a pretty scrawny little 

thing when he came home. It was hard. I 

was very frightened. 

The following quote provides an example of 

parents who were comfortable with <strong>the</strong> transition 

but were still nervous that something 

could happen. They stated: 

It was easy. We were in <strong>the</strong>re so much of <strong>the</strong> 

time. They have a room. The NICU has two 

rooms set up for like home. Most of <strong>the</strong> 

time <strong>the</strong> parents would spend one or two 

nights in this room. We were <strong>the</strong>re so much. 

We’d be <strong>the</strong>re from 8 o’clock in <strong>the</strong> morning 

until 11 or 12 o’clock at night. They said 

by this time that <strong>the</strong>y were sure we were 

going to do just fine at home. We were kind 

of scared - afraid we’d get home and something 

would happen, but it didn’t. 

A mo<strong>the</strong>r who had to learn gastronomy 

tube feeding expressed <strong>the</strong>se feelings: 

They didn’t really prepare me. They were 

feeding her through a tube. They brought 

her to my room twice to teach me how to 

feed her through <strong>the</strong> tube because <strong>the</strong>y 

didn’t know how else to get her to eat. And 

instead of letting me do it, <strong>the</strong> nurse did it 

anyway. She showed me how you know and 

all this stuff. But <strong>the</strong>y wouldn’t let me do it. 

They took her back to <strong>the</strong> nursery, kept 

feeding her with <strong>the</strong> tube and only brought 

her whenever it wasn’t feeding time. Which 

upset me because I needed to learn and at 

that time I felt like she needed to be with 

me most of <strong>the</strong> time and not down in <strong>the</strong> 

nurses’ station being fed 10 seconds 

through a tube you know. She needed that 

feeding time to be close with me. 

Transition from EI to Preschool 


The transition from EI services (largely home 

based in this state) to Early Childhood (EC) 

centerbased preschool special education services 

is ano<strong>the</strong>r major transition for families. 

The preschool placement at age 3 provided 

opportunities for families to comfort and cope

with developmental delays. The process of 

family decision making and <strong>the</strong> realities of 

limited placement options were discomforting 

to many families. During <strong>the</strong> study, 30 of <strong>the</strong> 

children had aged out of EI services and made 

<strong>the</strong> transitions to preschools. Of <strong>the</strong> families 

in this transition, 46% reported <strong>the</strong>y were 

comfortable with <strong>the</strong> process. Comfort was 

defined in four ways: (a) <strong>the</strong> EI staff had prepared 

<strong>the</strong> families for <strong>the</strong> move and were 

helpful in setting up meetings with school 

staff, (b) parents felt <strong>the</strong>y were involved in <strong>the</strong> 

Individualized Education Program (IEP) planning 

process, (c) parents were provided with 

decision making opportunities and given alternative 

choices, and (d) <strong>the</strong> families were 

happy with <strong>the</strong> placements. 

Forty-three percent of families reported 

<strong>the</strong>y were uncomfortable with <strong>the</strong> transition 

from EI to preschool. Parents who were uncomfortable 

felt unprepared and anxious. 

Many had complaints about being abandoned 

by <strong>the</strong> EI staff that <strong>the</strong>y had grown to rely on. 

Uncomfortable families had a difficult time 

communicating with service providers, some 

reported <strong>the</strong>y did not understand <strong>the</strong> process. 

These families reported that <strong>the</strong>y did not feel 

like full participants in <strong>the</strong> IEP process and 

that <strong>the</strong>y were not given choices about preschool 

placements. A majority of <strong>the</strong> parents 

who were unhappy wanted placements in a 

neighborhood school or in a preschool that 

served children without disabilities as well as 

children with disabilities. 

Ten percent of <strong>the</strong> families found that <strong>the</strong>ir 

children were no longer eligible for special 

services when <strong>the</strong>ir children turned three 

(based on state or school districts’ definitions 

and evaluations). Some parents felt this was a 

wonderful success story highlighting <strong>the</strong> impact 

of EI. However, two of <strong>the</strong> families were 

very unhappy and felt that by <strong>the</strong> time <strong>the</strong>ir 

children turned five, and entered school, <strong>the</strong>y 

would be eligible for special services again. 

Parents feared that two years without special 

services would result in regression. 

Overall, parents were very grateful to be 

entering <strong>the</strong>ir children in preschool. The 

main advantage <strong>the</strong>y discovered was that 

school services averaged 10 hours per week 

while EI had averaged one hour a week. The 

increased amount of service time was viewed 

very positively by <strong>the</strong> parents. 

As previously stated, parents expressed 

mixed emotions during EI to preschool transition, 

below are examples of parental reactions: 

You know, and now we’re ready to transition 

out of EI in March. Well, now I’m 

scared. I’m getting all <strong>the</strong>se anxiety feelings 

again because what’s it going to be like in 

<strong>the</strong> public school? We’ve been with EI, we 

know <strong>the</strong>se people. We know what <strong>the</strong>y do. 

We know that <strong>the</strong>y’re wonderful, that <strong>the</strong>y 

listen to me first before <strong>the</strong>y listen to a piece 

of paper that says it should be this way. Is 

<strong>the</strong> school going to do that? It’s scary. And 

<strong>the</strong>n, we’re starting to think about kindergarten 

- what’s it going to be like in kindergarten? 

Is she going to have special class all 

<strong>the</strong> time? 

A number of rural families found <strong>the</strong>mselves 

unable to access a school program that 

met <strong>the</strong>ir children’s needs. Some families had 

to make major changes to find an appropriate 

preschool setting. Comments on this situation 

included: 

We wanted her in school, but <strong>the</strong> special 

education cooperative was two hours away 

on <strong>the</strong> bus for her. She needs to be continually 

repositioned in seating. That’s <strong>the</strong> 

whole reason we moved. We had to completely 

relocate because that school system 

<strong>the</strong>re had nothing. 

Ano<strong>the</strong>r parent said: 

There wasn’t a school program out where 

we were so I decided to move us to town, I 

called beforehand and told <strong>the</strong>m that we 

were coming and that I wanted an intake on 

him and everything. I didn’t want to lose 

any school time. So, we got in really quick. 

He ended up going into <strong>the</strong>ir infant stim 

program at <strong>the</strong> segregated preschool, which 

wasn’t teaching him enough. We decided 

that it would be better if he was in <strong>the</strong> 

school that was fully enclosed. And, <strong>the</strong>y 

had an (educable mentally handicapped) 

EMH program out <strong>the</strong>re, so we decided to 

put him out <strong>the</strong>re. And, it was a little bit of 

a struggle at first. They didn’t want to take 

him. But, <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong>y changed <strong>the</strong>ir mind, I 

guess. And rescheduled and <strong>the</strong>y went 

ahead and did <strong>the</strong> IEP, so he’ll be going out 


<strong>the</strong>re. He’ll go. . .we’re going to mainstream 

him into a regular class in <strong>the</strong> afternoon 

and in <strong>the</strong> morning he’ll be in <strong>the</strong> 

EMH class, and he’ll have his interpreter 

with him. So, we’re pretty excited. 

For <strong>the</strong> most part, families in <strong>the</strong> study were 

not difficult to accommodate, even when <strong>the</strong>y 

were not provided with <strong>the</strong>ir first choice of 

preschool programs. One mo<strong>the</strong>r shared: 

The school folks were wonderful, wonderful. 

They are going to continue to do that 

next year and try to mainstream her a little 

bit more. And <strong>the</strong>n, she will stay at <strong>the</strong> 

segregated preschool. I was gonna try to get 

her in school with her bro<strong>the</strong>r, but she’ll 

stay and go through her grade school years 

at <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r elementary that has <strong>the</strong> segregated 

cottages. 

A typical comment from a parent that was 

comfortable with <strong>the</strong> transition to preschool 

was: 

EI was really helpful in <strong>the</strong> transition to <strong>the</strong> 

special education only preschool and <strong>the</strong>y 

didn’t hit me with any red lights. I didn’t 

ever hear, “You can’t.” It was, “OK, we’ll do 

this. We will do this.” And <strong>the</strong>y’re <strong>the</strong> ones 

that stepped in and <strong>the</strong>y approached special 

education and said, “This is what we want to 

do, and this is why we want to do it, and we 

don’t see any problems. Do you?” So, <strong>the</strong>y 

were a big help as far as making <strong>the</strong> transition 

early. 

A number of statements provided below 

summarize how most families experience transition: 

EI could no longer give him what he 

needed and um, it was pretty hard getting 

everybody toge<strong>the</strong>r. Getting <strong>the</strong> correct paperwork 

you know for <strong>the</strong> public school 

system, <strong>the</strong>y never told me exactly what <strong>the</strong>y 

needed, and <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong>y call me two days 

before and said “Well, it doesn’t look like 

he’ll be able to go, cause we don’t have this 

such and such report.” I thought I’d given 

<strong>the</strong>m everything. So I got it, and I said “He’s 

starting on that day, our lives are revolving 

around it, so he did. But that was real hard. 

I was very apprehensive, in fact, I didn’t 

want him to go through it. I had visited <strong>the</strong> 

classroom as I wasn’t comfortable with it. I 

considered holding him out. But, once I 

met his teacher I said, ‘let’s go ahead. It 

can’t be that bad’. We started him and I’m 

glad we did. I really am. 

I don’t know about his transition, but 

mine was really rough. He rode a big bus 

that pulled up outside, and it swallowed him 

whole and he disappeared. As far as him 

being <strong>the</strong>re, at first it tired him out, but now 

he loves being around <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r kids. 



The research described here identified some 

of <strong>the</strong> transitions experienced by families with 

young children with disabilities. Themes regarding 

<strong>the</strong>se transitions include: (1) families 

going through a birth crisis may have difficulty 

understanding <strong>the</strong> information <strong>the</strong>y are provided, 

(2) some parents may not feel comfortable 

in <strong>the</strong>ir abilities to care for <strong>the</strong>ir children 

as <strong>the</strong>y transition from <strong>the</strong> hospital to home, 

and (3) <strong>the</strong> transition from home based early 

intervention to center based preschool may 

cause much anxiety for some parents. 

The primary limitation of <strong>the</strong> study was <strong>the</strong> 

small number (48) of families in <strong>the</strong> study. 

However, <strong>the</strong> amount of qualitative data that 

was collected from <strong>the</strong> families was substantial. 

Depending on when <strong>the</strong> families were 

included in <strong>the</strong> study <strong>the</strong>y may have been 

interviewed up to 10 times over <strong>the</strong> course of 

<strong>the</strong> five years of <strong>the</strong> study. In addition, a significant 

o<strong>the</strong>r to <strong>the</strong> family was interviewed 

each year of <strong>the</strong> study. These interviews provided 

a rich amount of data to investigate 

many <strong>the</strong>mes regarding <strong>the</strong> families’ transitions 

through early childhood. Ano<strong>the</strong>r limitation 

was that all of <strong>the</strong> families came from 

<strong>the</strong> same state. Therefore, <strong>the</strong> findings may 

not generalize to o<strong>the</strong>r states. However, <strong>the</strong> 

families were representative of most of <strong>the</strong> 

demographic characteristics of families in <strong>the</strong> 

state. It should also be kept in mind that all 

families are unique and <strong>the</strong> present research 

supports <strong>the</strong> importance of gaining insight 

into each family’s unique system to more effectively 

deliver appropriate services. 

It is also important to remember that <strong>the</strong> 

subjects for this research were willing volunteers 

and may have had different experiences 

than those families that did not volunteer to

participate in <strong>the</strong> study. Thus, as such <strong>the</strong> 

findings of <strong>the</strong> research may not be applicable 

to all families. 

Some recommendations for assisting families 

undergoing transitions in early childhood 

may be made based on some of <strong>the</strong> findings of 

this research. General guidelines include: 

● Be reliable and consistent when providing 

information 

● Anticipate anxiety and address it with a predictable 

schedule of preparation events 

● Interpret unfamiliar language to families 

and check for understanding 

● Be accessible and present at meetings 

● Be factual, supportive, and nonjudgmental 

● Help parents clarify and articulate <strong>the</strong>ir 

questions and expectations 

● In preparing for transition provide guided 

trials and opportunities for family to practice 

new skills (especially important for 

medical and care giving routines) 

● Allow parents (and children when appropriate) 

to experience new settings in a progression 

from neutral exposure (empty meeting 

rooms, classrooms, and offices) to active observation 

(attending o<strong>the</strong>r IEPs or teachers 

and students in <strong>the</strong> classroom) to partial 

and finally full participation. Even highly 

anxious parents may only require one neutral 

progression. 

● Remember that highly emotive information 

(medical or developmental diagnosis) initially 

may be poorly comprehended by family 

members. Provide follow-up interactions 

to build understanding and foundations for 

coping with <strong>the</strong> information. 

Personnel should bear in mind that transition 

for families does not mean only changes 

in placement or services received but also can 

mean changes in emotional states or <strong>the</strong>ir 

perceptions of <strong>the</strong>ir children’s and <strong>the</strong>ir own 

situation. By being sensitive to <strong>the</strong>se changes 

in perceptions personnel will be able to communicate 

more effectively with families and 

help to address <strong>the</strong>ir goals. 

References 

Hanline, M. F. (1988). Making <strong>the</strong> transition to 

preschool: Identification of parent needs. <strong>Journal</strong> 

of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> for Early Childhood, 12, 98–107. 

Haring, K. A., & Lovett, D. L. (1995). Families and 

early intervention: Results of year 5 research. Norman, 

OK: University of Oklahoma, Department of Educational 

Psychology. 

Johnson, T., Chandler, L., Kerns, G., & Fowler, S. 

(1986). What are parents saying about family involvement 

in school transitions? A retrospective 

transition interview. <strong>Journal</strong> of <strong>the</strong> <strong>Division</strong> for Early 

Childhood, 11, 10–17. 

Kavale, S. (1996). Interview: An introduction to qualitative 

research interviewing. Thousand Oaks, CA: 

Sage. 

Rosenkoetter, S., Hains, A., & Fowler, S. (1994). 

Bridging early services for children with special needs 

and <strong>the</strong>ir families: A practical guide for transition 

planning. Baltimore: Paul Brookes. 

Trivette, C., Dunst, C., Boyd, K., & Hamby, D. 

(1996). Family-oriented program models, helpgiving 

practices, and parental control appraisals. 

Exceptional Children, 62, 237–248. 

Turnbull, A., & Turnbull, R. (2001). Families, professionals, 

and exceptionality: Collaborating for empowerment 

(4 th ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill 

Prentice Hall. 

Whyte, W. F. (1982). Interviewing in field research. 

In R. G. Burgess (Ed.), Field research: A source and 

field manual (pp. 111–122). London: Allen and 

Unwin. 

Winton, P. J., & Bailey, D. B. (1988). The familyfocused 

interview: A collaborative mechanism for 

family assessment and goal setting. <strong>Journal</strong> of <strong>the</strong> 

<strong>Division</strong> for Early Childhood, 3, 195–207. 

Wolery, M. (1993). Transitions in early childhood 

special education: Issues and procedures. In E. L. 

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Challenges facing special education (pp. 5–26). Denver, 

CO: Love. 




Age of Majority, Transfer of Rights and Guardianship: 

Considerations for Families and Educators 

Dorothy Squatrito Millar 

Saginaw Valley State University 

Abstract: Under IDEA, when youths reach <strong>the</strong> age of majority <strong>the</strong>y become responsible for <strong>the</strong>ir educational program, 

unless <strong>the</strong>y are determined to be incompetent. When considering student competence, <strong>the</strong> issue of guardianship is often 

raised. Guardianship is inconsistent with <strong>the</strong> recent emphasis on self-determination. This study examined guardianship 

practices as <strong>the</strong>y relate to young adults who have developmental disabilities. Review of 221 court files found 

that (a) disability label, limited ability to make decisions, and youth reaching <strong>the</strong> age of majority were main reasons 

why petitions were filed; (b) evidence used to “prove” incompetence was unclear; (c) ward’s “conditions” remained 

constant following <strong>the</strong> guardian appointment; and (d) guardianship did not necessarily resolve <strong>the</strong> areas of concern. 

Guardianship is a complex issue in need of fur<strong>the</strong>r investigation. 

Age of majority is <strong>the</strong> legal age, determined by 

State law, when youths become adults who are 

legally responsible for <strong>the</strong>ir choices and actions. 

When a student reaches <strong>the</strong> age of majority, 

IDEA states that schools must provide 

<strong>the</strong> student and parent notice, one year before 

<strong>the</strong> student becomes legal, that all of <strong>the</strong> 

educational rights afforded to <strong>the</strong> parents are 

to be transferred to <strong>the</strong> student. These educational 

rights include (a) receiving notice of 

IEP meetings, (b) consent to re-evaluations, 

(c) consent to change placements, and (d) 

request for mediation and due process hearings 

[20.U.S.C. 1415 (m)]. This transfer of 

rights is to occur for all students with disabilities, 

unless <strong>the</strong> student is determined incompetent 

or unable to provide informed consent. 

It is at this time when parents and school 

officials discuss student competence and 

when <strong>the</strong> issue of guardianship is often raised 

(Millar & Renzaglia, 2002). 

Guardianship is <strong>the</strong> process by which an 

individual (a petitioner) requests that a court 

appoint someone (a guardian) to have <strong>the</strong> 

authority to make decisions for ano<strong>the</strong>r (a 

ward or respondent) (Friedman & Senage, 

1988; Leary, 1997). It is a legally recognized 


be addressed to Dorothy Squatrito Millar, Saginaw 

Valley State University, College of Education, 7400 

Bay Road, University Center, MI 48710. E-mail: 

dmmillar@svsu.edu. 


relationship between an adult and a minor 

child or an adult who has been determined by 

<strong>the</strong> court to be ei<strong>the</strong>r totally or partially incapacitated 

(Leary; Lisi, Burns, & Lussenden, 

1994). Depending upon state statutes and extent 

of authority given to <strong>the</strong> guardian, an 

individual may lose many or all legal rights. 

Few studies address <strong>the</strong> guardianship process 

in reference to individuals with developmental 

disabilities. Studies mainly tend to examine 

<strong>the</strong> process as it effects <strong>the</strong> elderly 

(Friedman & Senage, 1988; Lisi et al., 1994), 

and specific state guardianship practices 

(O’Sullivan & Hoffman, 1995; Spring, Dubler, 

& Garginlo, 1990). In 1987, <strong>the</strong> Associated 

Press (AP) investigated over 2,000 guardianship 

files from all 50 states and <strong>the</strong> District of 

Columbia to obtain information on elderly 

wards and <strong>the</strong> guardianship process (Associated 

Press, 1987). In <strong>the</strong> early 1990s, <strong>the</strong> National 

Center for Social Gerontology examined 

guardianship practices of ten states. This 

national study also focused its attention exclusively 

on <strong>the</strong> elderly (Lisi et al., 1994; The 

Center for Social Gerontology, 1994). 

Recently, Millar and Renzaglia (2002) were 

<strong>the</strong> first to focus <strong>the</strong>ir guardianship related 

investigation exclusively on young adults with 

developmental disabilities. The concern was 

that although <strong>the</strong>re are efforts to promote 

self-determination in youth and young adults, 

results of such efforts might be negated as an 

individual’s right to make decisions could be

entirely eliminated should a guardian be appointed. 

After review of 221 court files across 

nine jurisdictions in Michigan, findings included: 

(a) 120 plenary/full guardians and 

101 partial/limited guardians were appointed, 

however, distinctions between <strong>the</strong> powers of 

plenary and partial guardians were often 

found to be minimal; (b) <strong>the</strong> wards’ primary 

disability was most often reported as “mental 

impairment”; (c) over 50% of <strong>the</strong> wards in <strong>the</strong> 

sample were 18 years of age; (d) over 90 % of 

<strong>the</strong> young adults were still in public schools at 

<strong>the</strong> time <strong>the</strong> petition was filed; and (e) for 

approximately one half of <strong>the</strong> wards, <strong>the</strong>ir sole 

source of income was SSI. In addition, petitions 

were most often filed by family members 

of <strong>the</strong> wards (74.7%), usually <strong>the</strong> mo<strong>the</strong>r. 

Mo<strong>the</strong>rs also were typically appointed as legal 

guardians. Because it was <strong>the</strong> first study on this 

issue, <strong>the</strong> authors found more questions related 

to guardianship than answers. 

The purpose of this study was to extend <strong>the</strong> 

findings of Millar and Renzaglia (2002). Using 

<strong>the</strong> 221 files reviewed previously, <strong>the</strong> following 

questions were asked: (a) what were <strong>the</strong> specific 

needs or situations of <strong>the</strong> individual with 

a developmental disability, which lead <strong>the</strong> petitioner 

to file for guardianship? (b) what was 

<strong>the</strong> source of evidence used to “prove” <strong>the</strong> 

person’s functional abilities as related to his or 

her person and/or property?” (c) were <strong>the</strong> 

legal procedures honored for <strong>the</strong> young 

adult? and (d) how has <strong>the</strong> guardianship imposition 

impacted/effected <strong>the</strong> lives of <strong>the</strong> 

ward and petitioner? 

An overview of guardianship is presented so 

that those who are reaching <strong>the</strong> age of majority, 

<strong>the</strong>ir family members and educators understand 

that this is a legal process. That is, a 

parent should not assume that because <strong>the</strong>ir 

child has a disability, that <strong>the</strong>y would remain 

<strong>the</strong> legal guardian unless <strong>the</strong>y go to court. 

Overview of Guardianship 

There are no unifying federal guidelines for 

guardianship practices. There is however, <strong>the</strong> 

Uniform Guardianship and Protective Proceedings 

Act (UGPPA) that recommends a 

model for States to follow as States evaluate 

and possibly reform <strong>the</strong>ir statutes. UGPPA attempts 

to present a model that balances protecting 

and preserving <strong>the</strong> autonomy of individuals 

(Leary, 1997). Michigan laws are 

found in <strong>the</strong> Michigan Compiled Laws Annotated 

(MCLA). Law that describes guardianship 

procedures for persons with developmental 

disabilities is contained in Chapter 6 of <strong>the</strong> 

Michigan Mental Health Code, and begins at 

section 330.1600. Michigan’s guardianship 

procedures are similar to o<strong>the</strong>r States, and 

recognize some aspects of <strong>the</strong> UGPPA model. 

Types of Guardianship 

There are essentially two types of guardianship 

duties: those duties that pertain to <strong>the</strong> 

person and those that pertain to <strong>the</strong> estate. 

For some individuals, it may be that a guardian 

becomes responsible for both <strong>the</strong> person 

and <strong>the</strong> estate (Leary, 1997; Lisi et al., 1994). 

A guardian of <strong>the</strong> person refers to an individual 

who is appointed by <strong>the</strong> court to have <strong>the</strong> 

legal rights and powers of personal decisionmaking 

over <strong>the</strong> ward. A court may authorize 

a guardian to assume some or all of <strong>the</strong> following 

responsibilities: (a) supervising <strong>the</strong> 

ward’s personal needs by ensuring that <strong>the</strong> 

ward is properly housed, educated, and generally 

cared for; (b) making a “reasonable 

effort” to secure for <strong>the</strong> ward’s training, education, 

medical, and psychological service, 

and social and vocational opportunities; and 

(c) assisting <strong>the</strong> ward in <strong>the</strong> development of 

maximum self-reliance and independence 

(Leary; Lisi et al.; MCLA 330.1631). A guardian 

of <strong>the</strong> estate refers to an individual who is 

authorized by a court to assume responsibility 

for <strong>the</strong> management of all or some of <strong>the</strong> 

ward’s property (Leary; Lisi et al.). 

Appointments could also be made under 

certain circumstances including emergency 

guardian, temporary guardian, standby guardian, 

and testamentary guardian (those appointed 

by will). These types of appointments 

are typically ordered for authorizing routine 

or emergency medical treatment (Leary, 

1997; Lisi et al., 1994; MCLA 330.1629). 

Scope of Guardianship 

In addition to <strong>the</strong>re being different types of 

guardianship duties, <strong>the</strong>re are different types 

of guardianship; plenary (total or full) or partial 

(limited) (Leary, 1997). Plenary guardians 

make all <strong>the</strong> critical decisions for a ward which 

may include <strong>the</strong> following: (a) signing a contract; 

(b) consenting to or preventing any 

Age of Majority and Guardianship / 379

medical intervention; (c) traveling; (d) spending 

money; (e) changing residential arrangements; 

(f) bringing any court actions; and (g) 

making changes in educational or vocational 

programs (Sullivan, 1986). 

When a court appoints a partial guardian, 

<strong>the</strong> partial guardian may act only in those 

areas in which <strong>the</strong> court has specified, and <strong>the</strong> 

ward retains <strong>the</strong> right to act in all areas not 

specifically limited by <strong>the</strong> court (Leary, 1997; 

Lisi et al., 1994; MCLA 330.1620). The intent 

of partial guardianship is to preserve, as much 

as possible, <strong>the</strong> individual’s autonomy which 

entails freedom of choice, responsibility and 

independent decision-making authority (MCLA 

330.1618; Sullivan, 1986). 

A guardian may be authorized to give consent 

for routine or emergency services, however, 

at any time consent is required for extraordinary 

medical procedures, <strong>the</strong> guardian 

must request consent from <strong>the</strong> court. Such 

extraordinary medical procedures include (a) 

sterilization, (b) abortion, (c) organ transplants, 

and (d) experimental treatment 

(MCLA 330.1629; Sullivan, 1986). 

Guardians 

Although guardians have legal control over all 

or some decisions for a ward, <strong>the</strong>re are no 

uniform requirements that <strong>the</strong>y have specific 

minimum qualification (Bulcroft, Kielkopf, & 

Tripp, 1991; Friedman & Senage, 1988; Lisi et 

al., 1994). Essentially, any person considered 

mentally competent can become a legal 

guardian. Before <strong>the</strong> appointment, however, 

<strong>the</strong> courts are required to make an effort to 

question <strong>the</strong> alleged ward concerning <strong>the</strong>ir 

preference regarding <strong>the</strong> person to be appointed 

guardian, and such preference is to 

be given due consideration (Leary, 1997; Lisi 

et al., 1994; MCLA 330.1628). 

Duties and liability. Once <strong>the</strong> court has 

appointed a guardian, <strong>the</strong> guardian is responsible 

for filing an annual report to <strong>the</strong> court 

which addresses: (a) <strong>the</strong> ward’s current mental, 

physical and social condition; (b) an assessment 

of <strong>the</strong> adequacy and appropriateness 

of <strong>the</strong> ward’s residence and mention of any 

plans for change to this regard; (c) a summary 

of <strong>the</strong> medical, educational, vocational, and 

o<strong>the</strong>r services received by <strong>the</strong> ward; (d) a resume 

of <strong>the</strong> guardian’s visits with and activities 

with <strong>the</strong> ward; (e) a recommendation as to 

whe<strong>the</strong>r a guardian remains needed; and (f) if 

applicable, an accounting of all financial 

transactions made by <strong>the</strong> guardian involving 

<strong>the</strong> ward’s estate (MCLA 330.1631). 

Generally, guardians are not held liable for 

civil damages for decisions made for <strong>the</strong> ward 

as long as those decisions were made in good 

faith and within <strong>the</strong> limits of court designated 

rules. If it can be determined that a guardian 

was negligent in his or her duties, and <strong>the</strong> 

negligence contributed to <strong>the</strong> resulting problematic 

outcome, <strong>the</strong> guardian might be 

found to be at least partially liable for damages 

(Sullivan, 1986). 

Guardianship Procedures 


Although <strong>the</strong>re are no unifying federal guidelines 

for guardianship practices, many states 

have a similar sequence of events. When considering 

guardianship, individuals should become 

familiar with <strong>the</strong>ir own State statutes. 

Because Michigan is <strong>the</strong> State where data were 

collected, and its guardianship procedures are 

similar to o<strong>the</strong>r States, its sequence of events is 

described below and is presented in Figure 1. 

Petition and evaluations. Prior to appointment 

of a guardian, proceedings must be initiated 

with <strong>the</strong> filing of a petition. This is 

generally done at probate courts, which handle 

wills and family matters, and often are <strong>the</strong> 

designated court to handle guardianship petitions 

(Leary, 1997). Adjoining <strong>the</strong> petition 

must be a report that contains <strong>the</strong> following 

(MCLA 330.1612): 

1. A description of <strong>the</strong> nature and type of <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward’s (developmental) disability. 

2. Current evaluations (performed up to one 

year before <strong>the</strong> filing of <strong>the</strong> petition) of <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward’s mental, physical, social, and 

educational condition, adaptive behavior, 

and social skills. 

3. An opinion as to whe<strong>the</strong>r guardianship is 

needed, <strong>the</strong> type and scope of <strong>the</strong> guardianship 

needed, and a specific statement of 

<strong>the</strong> reasons for <strong>the</strong> guardianship. 

4. A recommendation as to <strong>the</strong> most appropriate 

rehabilitation plan and living arrangement 

for <strong>the</strong> individual and <strong>the</strong> reasons 

for <strong>the</strong> recommendation. 

5. Signatures of all individuals who performed 

<strong>the</strong> evaluations upon which <strong>the</strong> report 

is based.

If <strong>the</strong> report does not accompany <strong>the</strong> petition, 

<strong>the</strong> court will order that <strong>the</strong> evaluation(s) 

be performed by court identified qualified 

individual(s) and be submitted to <strong>the</strong> 

court before <strong>the</strong> hearing. In addition, this 

Figure 1. Guardianship procedures (MCLA 330.1600). 

report is confidential and not to be made part 

of public record. 

Notice of hearing. Petitions are typically 

filed at a court in <strong>the</strong> locale where <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward lives. Upon <strong>the</strong> filing of a petition, a date 


for <strong>the</strong> hearing is set, and necessary parties, 

such as <strong>the</strong> alleged ward, petitioner and family 

members, are notified of <strong>the</strong> filing and any 

hearings to be held about <strong>the</strong> matter (Leary, 

1997; MCLA 330.1614). 

Attorney for alleged ward. If <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward does not have an attorney, <strong>the</strong> court 

appoints one. If <strong>the</strong> court determines that <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward requires a person to represent 

his or her person, it will appoint a “guardian 

ad litem” (GAL) to represent <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward’s “best interest.” There are significant 

differences regarding how an attorney represents 

an alleged ward in comparison to that of 

a GAL. An attorney typically represents <strong>the</strong> 

wishes of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward without regard to 

whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y believe such wishes are reasonable 

or appropriate. A GAL, however, has <strong>the</strong> 

responsibility of representing <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward’s “best interest,” which could be solely 

what <strong>the</strong> GAL believes is best. The GAL’s beliefs 

and those of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward may conflict 

(Leary, 1997; Lisi et al., 1994; MCLA 

330.1616). 

Alleged ward’s rights. In addition to <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward having counsel appointed, <strong>the</strong> 

individual has: (a) <strong>the</strong> right to a jury; (b) <strong>the</strong> 

right to confront and cross-examine witnesses 

and evidence presented regarding <strong>the</strong>ir capacity, 

specifically a person who evaluated <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward during <strong>the</strong>ir testimony in court; 

(c) <strong>the</strong> right to a closed hearing; (d) <strong>the</strong> right 

to be present at all proceedings, unless such 

presence is excused via an affidavit signed by a 

physician or psychologist stating that attending 

<strong>the</strong> hearing would subject <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward to serious risk of physical or emotional 

harm; and (e) <strong>the</strong> right to an independent 

evaluation (MCLA 330.1617). 

Hearing and court determination. During 

<strong>the</strong> hearing, <strong>the</strong> court must: (a) inquire into 

<strong>the</strong> nature and extent of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward’s 

intellectual functioning; (b) determine <strong>the</strong> 

extent of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward’s impairment in 

adaptive behavior; (c) determine <strong>the</strong> capacity 

of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward of making and communicating 

responsible decisions concerning his/ 

her person; (d) determine <strong>the</strong> capacity of <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward to manage his/her estate and 

financial affairs; and (e) determine <strong>the</strong> most 

appropriate and least restrictive living arrangement 

for <strong>the</strong> alleged ward. If <strong>the</strong> court 

finds clear and convincing evidence that <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward is only partially without capacity 

to care for him or herself, <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> court may 

appoint a partial guardian, but not a plenary 

guardian (MCLA 330.1618). 

In addition to determining type and scope 

of guardian appointments, courts also need to 

consider duration of <strong>the</strong> term of guardianship. 

If a partial guardian is appointed, <strong>the</strong> 

term is not to exceed five years. When <strong>the</strong> 

term expires, a new petition and subsequent 

procedures must occur. The term of a plenary 

guardian can be indefinite or until fur<strong>the</strong>r 

court order. From date of appointment, <strong>the</strong> 

guardian is to present <strong>the</strong> court with annual 

reports addressing <strong>the</strong> ward’s condition, regardless 

of level of guardianship imposed. 

Dismissal and modification of appointment. 

When <strong>the</strong> court appoints <strong>the</strong> guardian, <strong>the</strong> 

court is mandated to inform <strong>the</strong> wards (both 

verbally and written) of <strong>the</strong>ir right to request 

that <strong>the</strong> guardian appointment be dismissed 

or modified (MCLA 330.1634). A guardian’s 

appointment may be dismissed or modified 

when <strong>the</strong> ward’s capacity to perform <strong>the</strong> tasks 

necessary for <strong>the</strong> care of his or her person or 

management of his or her estate have 

changed so as to warrant guardian modification 

or discharge (MCLA 330.1637). Upon 

termination or expiration of term of guardianship, 

<strong>the</strong> ward regains all legal and civil rights. 

Summary 


Depending upon state statutes and <strong>the</strong> extent 

of authority given to <strong>the</strong> guardian, <strong>the</strong> ward 

may lose many legal and civil rights. Because 

of <strong>the</strong> potentially serious and enormous ramifications 

of an appointment, some have argued 

that guardianship should always be considered 

as a last resort, and if ever imposed 

should be temporary, and used to encourage 

<strong>the</strong> development of self-reliance and independence 

(Iris, 1986; Lisi et al., 1994). Some State 

statues also recognize <strong>the</strong> ramifications of 

guardianship. For example, Section 602 of <strong>the</strong> 

Michigan Mental Health Code which delineates 

<strong>the</strong> procedures of guardianship imposition 

of persons with developmental disabilities 

states “Guardianship for individuals with developmental 

disabilities shall be utilized only 

as is necessary to promote and protect <strong>the</strong> 

well-being of <strong>the</strong> individual; shall take into 

account <strong>the</strong> individual’s abilities; shall be designed 

to encourage <strong>the</strong> development of max-

imum self-reliance and independence in <strong>the</strong> 

individual.” 

Method 

Methodology used in this study was derived 

from existing <strong>the</strong>oretical and empirical knowledge 

regarding guardianship legislation and 

practices. Specifically, nine jurisdictions were 

chosen to reflect what was occurring in one 

state, Michigan. Guardianship practices in 

Michigan were chosen for two reasons. Michigan 

is recognized as a leader in efforts to 

reform guardianship laws as <strong>the</strong>y apply to <strong>the</strong> 

elderly, largely due to <strong>the</strong> efforts of <strong>the</strong> Center 

for Social Gerontology, located in Ann Arbor, 

Michigan. This study may extend that leadership 

for persons with developmental disabilities 

as reform efforts on guardianship practices 

continues. Secondly, in Michigan, 

students can receive special education services 

through age 26, five-years beyond that mandated 

by federal law. Information obtained 

here may be used to help focus school curricula 

to better prepare youth with disabilities to 

retain <strong>the</strong>ir civil and legal rights, once <strong>the</strong>y 

reach <strong>the</strong> age of majority. 

Examination of Court Files 

Close to 10 million people reside in Michigan 

(MI); (Census data, 1995). The State Court 

Administration Office (SCAO) reported that 

0.2% of <strong>the</strong> MI population was determined by 

a judge to be a person with a developmental 

disability, of adult age, and ei<strong>the</strong>r totally or 

partially without capacity to care for his or her 

person and/or estate, <strong>the</strong>refore, in need of a 

guardian (The State Court Administration Office, 

1998). The research methods involved in 

this study focused on a review of 221 court 

files across a sample of individuals with developmental 

disabilities who had a guardian appointed. 

Selection of Jurisdictions/Counties 

In an effort to obtain a representative randomized 

sample, <strong>the</strong> state was divided into 

three sections: nor<strong>the</strong>rn, middle and sou<strong>the</strong>rn. 

Jurisdictions within <strong>the</strong>se sections were 

based on <strong>the</strong> following: (a) geographic location 

(urban, suburban, and rural); (b) population; 

(c) economic composition; and (d) 

demographic diversity. Specifically, <strong>the</strong> three 

counties/jurisdictions that had <strong>the</strong> largest 

populations in each section using 1995 data 

were selected (Census data, 1995). In order to 

obtain a sample of each of <strong>the</strong> three sections, 

a minimum of 10 files per jurisdiction were 

targeted for review, with a larger number of 

cases being examined in <strong>the</strong> counties with 

larger populations. A minimum of 10 cases 

per jurisdiction were selected, ra<strong>the</strong>r than a 

proportion representing population, so that 

enough cases were reviewed to get an accurate 

representation of <strong>the</strong> smaller nor<strong>the</strong>rn jurisdictions 

(Millar & Renzaglia, 2002). Even 

though <strong>the</strong> sampling used may not truly be 

representative of Michigan’s guardianship 

practices, it serves as a starting point for development 

of a more comprehensive profile 

of persons with disabilities being appointed 

guardians. 

Court File Abstract Survey Development 

In order to collect data from court files, a 

court file abstract was developed. The content 

and questions were based on questions from 

<strong>the</strong> following sources: (a) probate court forms 

(e.g., <strong>the</strong> petition, report attached to <strong>the</strong> petition, 

order appointing an attorney, order 

appointing a guardian, notice to guardian regarding 

duties, hearing sheet); (b) <strong>the</strong> National 

Longitudinal Transition Survey (Wagner, 

Newman, & Shaver, 1989); and (c) <strong>the</strong> 

National Study of Guardianship Systems (The 

Center for Social Gerontology, 1994). 

Piloting 

In fall of 1999, a draft court file abstract survey 

was “piloted.” Piloting was performed by asking 

a panel of experts, which consisted of a 

probate judge, SCAO representative and probate 

register, all knowledgeable of guardianship 

procedures, to review <strong>the</strong> instrument and 

determine whe<strong>the</strong>r information sought on <strong>the</strong> 

questionnaire was attainable from court file 

review and whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y knew of any additional 

sources of information that may be accessed 

to obtain <strong>the</strong> information. In addition 

to asking <strong>the</strong> panel for feedback, seven court 

files were used in <strong>the</strong> piloting stage to check 

for appropriateness of language and question 

content. Feedback from experts, and actual 

piloting of instruments on court cases, was 


utilized to eliminate some questions and to 

add o<strong>the</strong>rs. Interestingly, all three experts cautioned 

that some aspects of <strong>the</strong> file should be 

confidential; <strong>the</strong>refore information regarding 

IQ, adaptive level and school labels and program 

emphasis might not be found. 

The final tool was 14 pages in length and 

consisted of 100 questions, of which <strong>the</strong> majority 

could be answered by checking <strong>the</strong> appropriate 

response and 18 were recordings of 

<strong>the</strong> petitioners’, guardians’ or judges’ responses 

to open-ended questions found on 

various court documents. The instrument covered 

five broad areas. Areas discussed in this 

manuscript include questions (14) related to 

due process (e.g., was <strong>the</strong>re a notice of <strong>the</strong> 

hearing or attorney representation for <strong>the</strong> 

ward throughout <strong>the</strong> proceedings?) and questions 

(17) obtaining information from annual 

reports regarding <strong>the</strong> ward’s living arrangements, 

social, mental, physical conditions and 

whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> guardian believed that <strong>the</strong> ward 

was in continued need of a guardian. O<strong>the</strong>r 

areas included reasons for guardianship requests 

and “facts” about <strong>the</strong> ward’s condition 

and questions regarding court decisions related 

to appointment of a guardian. O<strong>the</strong>r 

information that was obtained from <strong>the</strong> surveys 

can be found in Millar and Renzaglia 

(2002). 

Data Collection and Analysis 

Activities began with informing <strong>the</strong> SCAO of 

<strong>the</strong> purpose of <strong>the</strong> research, providing a copy 

of <strong>the</strong> instrument with <strong>the</strong> request for feedback 

for instrument refinement, and a list of 

jurisdictions targeted for study participation. 

File information sought was open to public 

review, <strong>the</strong>refore all courts agreed to allow 

court files to be reviewed. 

Selection of court files. Court case selection 

was based on <strong>the</strong> following criteria: (a) <strong>the</strong> 

ward was a resident of one of <strong>the</strong> nine jurisdictions 

targeted for this research; (b) a final 

guardianship decision was made between <strong>the</strong> 

years 1994-99 (e.g., granted, denied); (c) <strong>the</strong> 

case involved a ward that was 17 - 28 years of 

age at <strong>the</strong> time <strong>the</strong> petition was filed; and (d) 

<strong>the</strong> alleged ward had a disability. 

Randomization. Each court maintains 

records independently from one ano<strong>the</strong>r. 

Therefore, <strong>the</strong> method for obtaining court 

files for review varied. For example, three 


courts provided a list of cases <strong>the</strong>y believed 

met at least one of <strong>the</strong> criteria for file abstract 

selection. Three different courts provided information 

on <strong>the</strong>ir coding system and allowed 

access to <strong>the</strong> file room and files were randomly 

selected. Remaining courts provided 

<strong>the</strong> investigator with candidate files. The investigator 

eliminated some of <strong>the</strong> court files if 

<strong>the</strong>y did not meet one of <strong>the</strong> case criteria as 

specified in <strong>the</strong> study by Millar and Renzaglia 

(2002). 

Data collection and inter-observer agreement. 

Approximately 5% of <strong>the</strong> 221 court files (n 

10) investigated were reviewed by a second 

observer. Training for <strong>the</strong> observer consisted 

of: (a) reviewing <strong>the</strong> guardianship process and 

terminology; (b) reviewing strategies for extraction 

of data from court files; and (c) reviewing 

reliability procedures. One sample 

court file was used for initial training activities. 

In addition, at three separate courts in which 

data were collected for reliability purposes, 

one court file was used for additional training 

as each court organizes files differently. Overall, 

four files were used solely for training 

purposes of <strong>the</strong> second observer. 

Court file review agreement was assessed at 

<strong>the</strong> item level (each forced-choice response 

found on <strong>the</strong> survey) and was calculated by 

dividing <strong>the</strong> number of agreements between 

observers by <strong>the</strong> total number of agreements 

plus disagreements. For all four training files, 

agreement ranged from 90 - 100% with a 

mean of 94%. For <strong>the</strong> 10 files used to assess 

reliability during data collection, reliability 

ranged from 93 - 100%, with a mean of 97.8% 

(Millar & Renzaglia, 2002). 

Comments obtained in open-ended questions 

may be constrained, which is an inherent 

limitation of questionnaires in general. Given 

this limitation, and <strong>the</strong> acknowledgement that 

questionnaires alone do not provide in-depth 

detail or insight, a content analysis of <strong>the</strong> 

open-ended questions was conducted by reviewing 

<strong>the</strong> responses obtained from court 

documents in order to identify common topics 

(Bogdan & Biklen, 1992; Lincoln & Guba, 

1985; Wolcott, 1994). Regarding open-ended 

questions, <strong>the</strong> investigator recorded information 

found on <strong>the</strong> various court forms. Following 

<strong>the</strong> sorting of responses per question, a 

frequency count of number per main topic 

was conducted. For three cases, and for each 

open-ended question, a second observer was

given <strong>the</strong> topics identified and a list of responses 

per question. The second observer 

was asked to sort responses by placing each 

response under <strong>the</strong> topic he believed most 

fitting. Overall, <strong>the</strong> range of agreement regarding 

<strong>the</strong> sorting of topics was 86.3 - 94.4% 

with a mean of 89.8% (Millar & Renzaglia, 

2002). 

Data Analysis 

Percentages, means, and frequency distributions, 

were used to describe <strong>the</strong> information 

obtained from forced-choice questions. Following 

content analysis of <strong>the</strong> open-ended 

questions, a frequency count of number of 

responses per topic was conducted. Emphasis 

<strong>the</strong>n shifted from descriptive analysis to identifying 

relationships of various factors related 

to <strong>the</strong> level of guardianship imposed. 

Results 

IDEA states that when a youth is about to 

reach <strong>the</strong> age of majority, <strong>the</strong>re must be a 

transfer of rights from <strong>the</strong> parent to <strong>the</strong> child, 

unless <strong>the</strong> youth’s competence in regard to 

making informed decisions is in question. Below 

are <strong>the</strong> research questions and <strong>the</strong>ir respective 

results that address some of <strong>the</strong> 

guardianship practices young adults with developmental 

disabilities have encountered. 

Reasons Petition were Filed 

On <strong>the</strong> 1979 version of Michigan’s petition 

(which was used until <strong>the</strong> 1996 revision took 

effect), <strong>the</strong> court posed <strong>the</strong> question to <strong>the</strong> 

petitioner: “A guardian is needed for <strong>the</strong> following 

reasons: _____.” This question was 

modified in 1996 to “A guardian is needed to 

assist <strong>the</strong> individual with <strong>the</strong> following responsibilities 

and duties: _____.” It was believed 

that with such a statement answered, information 

regarding certain types of situations (e.g., 

medical, financial) or needs of <strong>the</strong> ward might 

be known. This open-ended question resulted 

in a number of responses from <strong>the</strong> 221 petitioners 

with <strong>the</strong> largest number of petitioners 

(n 82, 37.1%) completing <strong>the</strong> statement 

with comments similar to <strong>the</strong> following: “to 

make all decisions regarding medical, legal, 

contractual, program and placement, and 

travel decisions.” The second most common 

responses (n 73, 33%) were similar to that 

previously noted. Seventy-three of <strong>the</strong> 221 petitioners 

stated that due to <strong>the</strong> ward’s limitations, 

he or she was not capable of making 

informed decisions with regard to medical, 

legal, contractual, program and placement, 

and travel decisions. Thirty petitioners 

(13.5%) provided more detail regarding <strong>the</strong>ir 

reasons for a need of a guardian. For example, 

one petitioner wrote, “He has cognitive and 

adaptive limitations. He is unable to read, 

write, cook, do math or any banking skills.” In 

comparison, 23 petitioners (10.4%) stated 

that a guardian was needed to assist <strong>the</strong> ward 

with decision making and daily living. To authorize 

medical treatment and obtain benefits 

were <strong>the</strong> reasons presented by five petitioners. 

Four petitioners (1.8%) stated that <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward needed a place to live, implying 

that a guardian was needed to locate and 

make placement for <strong>the</strong> individuals with disabilities. 

There was no reason stated on four 

petitions. 

Evidence to “Prove” Incompetence and Legal 

Procedures 

For 221 (100%) of <strong>the</strong> cases, a notice was sent 

or personally delivered to all interested parties 

(including <strong>the</strong> alleged ward) to inform <strong>the</strong>m 

of <strong>the</strong> upcoming proceedings (MCLA 

330.1614). On three occasions, when a relative 

of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward could not be found, a 

notice of <strong>the</strong> hearing was posted in <strong>the</strong> paper. 

Importantly, all hearing notices informed <strong>the</strong> 

recipient (to some extent) that if aids or services 

were needed to accommodate an individual 

that had a disability, <strong>the</strong>y were to contact 

<strong>the</strong> court prior to <strong>the</strong> hearing. 

For <strong>the</strong> majority of <strong>the</strong> 221 hearings (n 

192, 86.8%), <strong>the</strong> alleged ward was present at 

<strong>the</strong> hearing. On 18 (8.1%) occurrences, <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward was not present and was excused 

upon testimony and/or affidavit of a psychologist 

or a physician. The reason offered on 

behalf of <strong>the</strong>se individuals’ absences was that 

attendance would subject <strong>the</strong> alleged ward to 

serious physical and/or emotional harm. On 

all occasions, testimony was given by <strong>the</strong> person 

who prepared <strong>the</strong> report or person who 

performed an evaluation serving in part as <strong>the</strong> 

basis of <strong>the</strong> report. 

Evidence. Section 330.1610 of <strong>the</strong> Michigan 

Mental Health Code states that an evalu- 


ation describing <strong>the</strong> nature and type of <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward’s disability must be made available 

to <strong>the</strong> court. The evaluations are to address 

<strong>the</strong> alleged ward’s mental, physical, social 

and education condition, adaptive 

behavior and social skills. Recommendations 

by evaluators regarding <strong>the</strong> need, type and 

scope of guardianship are also required aspects 

of <strong>the</strong> evaluation. It must be noted, “a 

report prepared under this section shall not 

be made part of public record of <strong>the</strong> proceedings” 

(MCLA 330.1610). Although evaluations 

are to be sealed and remain confidential, 

alarmingly two jurisdictions had comprehensive 

evaluations in <strong>the</strong> file, open to public 

review. Evaluations conducted by school personnel, 

residential staff, psychologists and 

physicians were not concealed for approximately 

30 of <strong>the</strong> 221 wards (13.5%). In 44 of 

<strong>the</strong> 221 files (19.9%), information regarding 

<strong>the</strong> type of reports submitted to <strong>the</strong> courts, 

but not for review included: (a) annual interdisciplinary 

meeting reports from foster care 

homes (n 2); (b) medical reports (n 44); 

(c) IEPs or o<strong>the</strong>r school reports (n 35); and 

(d) psychological testing reports (n 44). 

Based on a review of <strong>the</strong> files that did mention 

<strong>the</strong> type of evaluations conducted, evaluation 

practices tended to use standardized and 

norm-referenced tests (e.g., Slosson Intelligence 

Test - Revised; Vineland Adaptive Behavior 

Scale; Wechsler Adult Intelligence 

Scale - Revised). 

In six courts, judges jotted notes regarding 

what <strong>the</strong>y heard during testimony (74 cases 

had judge notes). Two of <strong>the</strong>se courts developed 

a fact-finding sheet that judges could 

use, which was included in <strong>the</strong> case file. Questions 

found on <strong>the</strong>se sheets were based on 

MCLA 330.1600. 

All court decisions were made without <strong>the</strong> 

verdict of a jury. For all 221 cases, <strong>the</strong> judges 

stated that “clear and convincing evidence” 

was provided and that <strong>the</strong> ward was an individual 

with a developmental disability and required 

a guardian. For approximately 30% 

(n 68) of <strong>the</strong> cases, <strong>the</strong> ward was found to 

be “totally without capacity to care for his/her 

person;” and 20% (n 46) of <strong>the</strong> wards were 

found to be “totally without capacity to care 

for his/her person and estate.” There were no 

instances in which a court decided that <strong>the</strong> 

ward was only “totally without capacity to care 

for his/her estate.” In comparison, <strong>the</strong> judges 


found approximately 20% (n 46) of <strong>the</strong> 

wards to be considered “partially without capacity 

to care for his/her person;” and approximately 

22% (n 49) of <strong>the</strong> wards were 

deemed “partially without capacity to care for 

both his/her persons and estate.” There were 

no instances when <strong>the</strong> courts found a ward to 

be only “partially without capacity to care for 

his/her estate.” 

Ward rights. If <strong>the</strong> alleged ward does not 

have an attorney, <strong>the</strong> court is to appoint one 

(MCLA 330.1616). There are significant differences 

regarding how an attorney is to represent 

an alleged ward in comparison to that 

of a GAL. In light of <strong>the</strong>se differences, one 

striking finding was that in two jurisdictions, 

court appointed attorneys acted as GALs. That 

is, <strong>the</strong>y provided <strong>the</strong> court with a letter of 

recommendation (submitted as evidence) regarding 

<strong>the</strong>ir opinion about whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y believed 

a guardian should be appointed. More 

alarming is that in one jurisdiction, <strong>the</strong> courts 

appointed only GALs, not attorneys. Therefore, 

31 of <strong>the</strong> 221 wards (14%) technically 

did not have attorneys during <strong>the</strong>ir guardianship 

proceedings. 

Length of appointment. Before appointment 

of a guardian, <strong>the</strong> court is to consider 

duration of <strong>the</strong> term of guardianship, and this 

term is to be indicated on <strong>the</strong> court order 

(MCLA 330.1626). A partial guardian is not to 

be appointed for a term greater than five 

years, at which time a new petition for guardianship 

must be filed. Of <strong>the</strong> 120 plenary 

guardians appointed, 105 (88.2%) had appointments 

of indefinite term. On three occasions 

when a plenary guardian of both <strong>the</strong> 

person and estate was appointed, <strong>the</strong> initial 

order was for three years, and <strong>the</strong>n upon 

court review, extended to “indefinite.” On five 

occasions, <strong>the</strong> plenary guardian of <strong>the</strong> person 

and estate was in effect for five years. This 

five-year time frame was also given to six plenary 

guardians of <strong>the</strong> person. Of <strong>the</strong> 101 partial 

guardianships, 98 had durations of five 

years. One partial guardian of <strong>the</strong> person was 

appointed for a three-year term. 

Alleged wards’ preferences. Alleged wards 

have <strong>the</strong> right to state <strong>the</strong>ir preference regarding 

who would be <strong>the</strong>ir guardian (MCLA 

330.1628). Seventy-three (33%) of <strong>the</strong> alleged 

wards indicated no preference as to whom 

<strong>the</strong>y believed should be appointed a guardian. 

In comparison, 72 (32.5%) of <strong>the</strong> wards did

indicate a preference. On all occasions, <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward requested <strong>the</strong> same person be 

appointed guardian that <strong>the</strong>ir petitioner did. 

Impact of Guardianship 

Michigan law, like o<strong>the</strong>r state laws, states that 

beginning one year from <strong>the</strong> date of <strong>the</strong> appointment, 

<strong>the</strong> guardian must file a report 

addressing <strong>the</strong> “condition” of <strong>the</strong> ward on an 

annual basis, or as frequently as <strong>the</strong> court 

orders (MCLA 330.1631). If <strong>the</strong> court does 

not receive a report from <strong>the</strong> guardian at <strong>the</strong> 

specified time, it may suspend <strong>the</strong> authority of 

<strong>the</strong> guardian until <strong>the</strong> report is filed. On <strong>the</strong> 

annual report form, available from <strong>the</strong> probate 

court, <strong>the</strong>re were boxes that <strong>the</strong> guardians 

were to check indicating <strong>the</strong> most appropriate 

response regarding <strong>the</strong> wards’ condition, 

and <strong>the</strong>y were asked to provide a brief description 

explaining <strong>the</strong>ir response, if applicable. 

Of <strong>the</strong> 221 court files reviewed, 164 cases 

(74.2%) had annual reports on file. It was 

expected that 188 of <strong>the</strong> 221 files would have 

an annual report based on <strong>the</strong>ir court decision 

date, however, some files, (n 24, 12.7% 

of <strong>the</strong> 188 files) did not. This may have resulted 

from guardians failing to file or from 

<strong>the</strong> court register withholding <strong>the</strong>m from review. 

For this investigation, only <strong>the</strong> most recent 

annual reports found in each file have 

been used for analysis, since for <strong>the</strong> majority 

of cases, <strong>the</strong>re was little year to year variation 

in annual report responses. 

Upon review of <strong>the</strong> 164 wards who had an 

annual report, 33 wards (20.1%) had a change 

in residence. For 24 wards that lived with a 

family member at <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> petition, 

nine moved into a group home, seven into 

foster care, one into an institution, and three 

into unspecified types of community placements. 

In addition, two wards moved into supported 

community living apartments, one 

moved into his own trailer, and one moved 

into his own apartment. Two wards who lived 

in an institution at <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> petition 

moved to an unspecified type of community 

residential setting, one institutionalized ward 

moved into a group home, and ano<strong>the</strong>r 

moved into a supported community living 

condominium. Information regarding <strong>the</strong> 

support services <strong>the</strong>se individuals needed to 

live in <strong>the</strong>se environments was not provided. 

One ward that was homeless reportedly 

“moved in with a friend,” whereas ano<strong>the</strong>r 

ward that was homeless moved into a group 

home. Finally, one ward moved from a group 

home into an institution, and three wards 

died within a year of <strong>the</strong> guardian appointment. 

With regard to how <strong>the</strong> guardian rated <strong>the</strong> 

ward’s present living arrangements, of <strong>the</strong> 162 

cases having a response, 75.9% (n 123) 

reported excellent, 23.4% (n 38) average, 

and 0.6% (n 1) below average. Comments 

were requested only if <strong>the</strong> guardian reported 

that <strong>the</strong> living arrangement was below average. 

Sometimes, however, comments were recorded 

even when average or above average 

conditions were reported. One guardian 

wrote that <strong>the</strong> residence was a “very clean 

home and <strong>the</strong> staff take excellent care of <strong>the</strong> 

ward.” The one guardian who believed <strong>the</strong> 

living condition at <strong>the</strong> foster home of <strong>the</strong> ward 

was substandard provided no comment. Ano<strong>the</strong>r 

question asked <strong>the</strong> guardian if <strong>the</strong>y believed 

<strong>the</strong> ward was content with <strong>the</strong> living 

situation. Of <strong>the</strong> 161 guardians that responded 

to this question, 96.8% of <strong>the</strong> guardians 

(n 156) reported that <strong>the</strong>y believed <strong>the</strong> 

ward was content, with only 3.1% (n 5) 

reporting <strong>the</strong> ward to be unhappy with <strong>the</strong> 

situation. Along with this question, <strong>the</strong> guardian 

was asked to recommend a more suitable 

residence, if applicable. Guardian responses 

included: (a) “<strong>the</strong> ward would like more independence/freedom, 

and needs a smaller 

group home with peers who have less severe 

disabilities;” (b) “<strong>the</strong> ward is ready to move to 

an apartment with help from supported living 

staff from Community Mental Health;” (c) 

“<strong>the</strong> ward wants her own apartment—she has 

been unhappy in every placement;” and (d) 

“<strong>the</strong> ward has acted out several times in this 

home, and at her day program and may have 

to be returned to <strong>the</strong> institution.” 

Over 86% (n 140) of <strong>the</strong> reporting guardians 

(n 161) believed <strong>the</strong> ward’s mental 

condition remained <strong>the</strong> same, 9.9% (n 16) 

improved, and 3.1% (n 5) deteriorated. 

Comments included: (a) “He seems happier 

and more open; he is more willing to talk 

about what he does;” (b) “<strong>the</strong> ward has matured 

and handles responsibilities better;” (c) 

“better medication;” and (d) “<strong>the</strong> ward is 

more independent and self confident which 

comes from his job.” Comments regarding <strong>the</strong> 

deterioration of <strong>the</strong> ward’s mental condition 


included: (a) “<strong>the</strong> ward is not walking as well 

and <strong>the</strong>re is no physical reason found for his 

failure to walk;” (b) “prior to re-admission to 

<strong>the</strong> state facility, <strong>the</strong> ward was evaluated many 

times by his psychiatrist and many meds were 

tried to get his severe behaviors of aggression 

and destructive self injury reduced;” (c) “<strong>the</strong> 

ward expresses <strong>the</strong> same mood/demeanor as 

always - dissatisfaction with her life and feels 

out of place wherever she is living;” and (d) 

“<strong>the</strong> ward is more aggressive, less attentive, 

and more disruptive.” 

With regard to <strong>the</strong> wards’ physical health, 

162 guardians responded to this question. Of 

<strong>the</strong>se, 88.8% (n 144) reported that <strong>the</strong> 

wards’ condition remained about <strong>the</strong> same, 

8.6% (n 14) improved, and 2.4% (n 4) 

deteriorated. Comments regarding improvement 

included: (a) “before his meds were 

changed, he was real shaky and nervous; he 

got angry easily,” (b) “<strong>the</strong> ward lost 15 pounds 

as he was overweight,” (c) “<strong>the</strong> ward is less 

physically aggressive,” and (d) “<strong>the</strong> ward had 

surgery (spinal fusion) to improve respiratory 

condition.” Guardian comments regarding 

<strong>the</strong> wards’ physical deterioration on two occasions 

were based on concern for <strong>the</strong> wards’ 

obesity. Prior to and after admission to <strong>the</strong> 

state facility, one ward reportedly refused to 

eat and required nasogastric feeding seven 

times within a one-year period. One guardian 

reported that a ward requires blood transfusions 

every two weeks. Finally, one guardian 

commented that a ward has had “several ups 

and downs, but is currently stable.” 

One hundred and sixty one guardians reported 

on <strong>the</strong> wards’ social condition. Of 

those, <strong>the</strong> wards’ condition reportedly remained 

<strong>the</strong> same 78.2% (n 126), improved 

19.8% (n 32), or deteriorated 1.8% (n 3). 

Improvements were attributed to <strong>the</strong> ward (a) 

going out into <strong>the</strong> community more to socialize, 

(b) becoming more independent and 

confident, (c) having more contact with peers, 

and (d) being involved in work or work programs. 

On <strong>the</strong> annual report form, guardians were 

asked to make a check mark next to services 

<strong>the</strong>ir wards were receiving. The form presented 

<strong>the</strong> following choices: (a) medical; (b) 

educational; (c) vocational; and (d) o<strong>the</strong>r 

professional services. Of 155 guardians who 

responded to this forced-choice question, 56 

(36.1%) marked medical, educational and vo- 


cational services; 41 (26.4%) indicated that 

<strong>the</strong>ir wards were receiving medical and educational 

services; whereas 21 (13.5%) checked 

all four choices. Eight guardians (5.1%) 

marked only medical and an additional eight 

(5.1%) marked only educational services. The 

combination of medical, educational and 

o<strong>the</strong>r was marked by eight guardians (5.1%). 

Five guardians (3.2%) marked both medical 

and vocational, an additional five (3.2%) 

marked medical, vocational and o<strong>the</strong>r, and 

three (1.9%) marked educational and vocational. 

Seventy-seven guardians provided additional 

information. A statement representative 

of such comments is “He goes to school year 

round and gets regular checkups from <strong>the</strong> 

doctor and dentist.” Fifteen guardians wrote 

that <strong>the</strong>ir wards were receiving services from 

Community Mental Health, but did not specify 

<strong>the</strong> type of services. 

The annual form also asked guardians to 

describe any visits with and activities on behalf 

of <strong>the</strong> ward. Unfortunately, courts do not ask 

<strong>the</strong> guardian to specify <strong>the</strong> type (e.g., visit, 

phone call), purpose (e.g., recreational, 

school meeting), duration or dates of interaction. 

Information provided by <strong>the</strong> guardian 

can be grouped into a number of clusters. Of 

those guardians who responded to this question 

(n 61), <strong>the</strong> main type of response 

presented by <strong>the</strong> guardians (n 26) is best 

presented by reviewing <strong>the</strong> following quote: 

“He (<strong>the</strong> ward) lives with us. I am responsible 

for all of his daily care and supervision.” The 

next most frequent type of response could be 

categorized as <strong>the</strong> activities wards are involved 

in, without <strong>the</strong> guardians disclosing <strong>the</strong>ir interactions 

with <strong>the</strong> ward (n 12). Some of <strong>the</strong> 

ward activities listed included: (a) Special 

Olympics; (b) bowling; (c) movies; (d) shopping; 

(e) dining out; (f) church functions; 

and (g) dances. Again, details addressing frequency 

of such activities were not provided. 

Nine guardians wrote that <strong>the</strong>y visit with <strong>the</strong> 

ward within <strong>the</strong> range of one time a week to at 

least one time a month. Ano<strong>the</strong>r guardian 

wrote that she talks on <strong>the</strong> phone with <strong>the</strong> 

ward on a daily basis; eight guardians wrote 

that <strong>the</strong>y visit often or occasionally. Again, 

fur<strong>the</strong>r detail was not provided. On five occasions, 

guardians conveyed that <strong>the</strong>ir interactions 

with <strong>the</strong> ward were more “duty and responsibility” 

related. For example, a guardian 

wrote that his activities involved “regular

guardian duties such as attending planning 

meetings, visiting, paying bills, making medical 

and placement decisions.” Ano<strong>the</strong>r guardian 

wrote “monthly visits - average time 15 - 30 

minutes a meeting - took care of personal and 

financial needs.” Two agency guardians wrote 

comments to <strong>the</strong> effect that <strong>the</strong>y were available 

24 hours a day and in an event of an 

emergency, but <strong>the</strong>ir undersigned only visited 

with <strong>the</strong> wards on occasion. The guardians did 

not provide detail regarding <strong>the</strong> undersigneds’ 

visits. 

The court also asks <strong>the</strong> guardians if <strong>the</strong>y 

believe <strong>the</strong> wards have any needs, and if so, to 

specify <strong>the</strong>m. Guardian comments (n 48) 

can be categorized in <strong>the</strong> following clusters: 

(a) ward needs are being met (n 11); (b) 

ward needs 24 hour supervision/total care 

(n 14); and (c) ward needs to learn life 

skills including social skills, money management, 

vocational skills and adult daily living 

skills (n 18). One guardian wrote: “No contact 

(physical) with males. She needs someone 

to love her like her mo<strong>the</strong>r and I (her fa<strong>the</strong>r) 

do.” In two consecutive reports, a guardian 

asked <strong>the</strong> court for information regarding 

provisions for <strong>the</strong> ward after her death. There 

was no evident response to this question from 

<strong>the</strong> court, however, <strong>the</strong> ward’s Aunt was appointed 

as standby guardian, so such a question 

is puzzling. One guardian simply wrote 

that <strong>the</strong> ward has needs “just like anyone else 

has needs.” 

If <strong>the</strong> guardians have any questions concerning 

<strong>the</strong>ir responsibilities, <strong>the</strong>y are to report 

<strong>the</strong>m on <strong>the</strong> annual report form. Overall, 

10 guardians had questions. Two guardians 

had concerns about Medicaid and <strong>the</strong> fact 

that it does not cover dental or eye care. They 

wondered if it was <strong>the</strong>ir responsibility to pay 

for <strong>the</strong> wards’ visits to <strong>the</strong> doctors. One guardian 

wrote, “Is <strong>the</strong>re anything I should be doing 

that I don’t know about?” Ano<strong>the</strong>r guardian 

wrote “I filled out a form like this in February. 

I don’t know if you received it because <strong>the</strong>re 

hasn’t been any response. Should I expect 

one? Please call me.” One guardian stated “I 

want to know that if I died, will my older sisters 

be able to step right in and take over or will 

<strong>the</strong>y have to go to court?” There was no evidence 

of <strong>the</strong> court contacting <strong>the</strong>se guardians. 

Finally, three guardians reminded <strong>the</strong> court 

that <strong>the</strong>re remains a need in <strong>the</strong> community 

for a more centralized list of available resources 

on all levels. 

A recommendation for <strong>the</strong> need of continued 

guardianship is also found on <strong>the</strong> annual 

report. Of <strong>the</strong> 161 guardians who responded, 

<strong>the</strong> majority of cases (n 159; 98.7%) stated 

that <strong>the</strong>y believed guardianship needed to be 

continued. Reasons provided can be sorted 

into four categories: (a) familial connection 

(over 20 comments found in annual reports); 

(b) ward’s circumstances have been unchanged; 

(c) ward’s best interest; and (d) 

ward is content. Comments found in familial 

connection include: (a) “I (<strong>the</strong> guardian/parent) 

really like to care for him and would like 

to make sure that his needs are met and that 

he has a happy life;” (b) “She (<strong>the</strong> ward) is my 

daughter and has first place in my heart, and 

I love her with everything I have;” (c) “I’m his 

mo<strong>the</strong>r;” (d) “I am his mo<strong>the</strong>r - I should take 

care of him all <strong>the</strong> time, o<strong>the</strong>rs might not take 

care of him as well;” and (e) “<strong>the</strong> ward is our 

life and we love him very much.” Approximately 

10 guardians wrote comments that reflected 

what <strong>the</strong>y believed <strong>the</strong> ward was thinking. 

A typical comment along this line was 

“<strong>the</strong> ward enjoys living with his parents and 

wants to continue.” Over 25 guardians made 

comments stating that <strong>the</strong> wards’ condition 

had not changed since <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> decision. 

One such comment, “<strong>the</strong> ward is unable 

to give informed consent in some areas of her 

life — medical, legal, psychiatric, thus a guardian 

should continue to increase her quality of 

life,” was <strong>the</strong> same information presented on 

<strong>the</strong> petition. A guardian indicated that he (<strong>the</strong> 

ward’s fa<strong>the</strong>r) was uncertain if <strong>the</strong> need for a 

guardian continued. Only on one occasion 

did <strong>the</strong> guardian (<strong>the</strong> ward’s fa<strong>the</strong>r) indicate 

that he did not believe that his son needed a 

guardian, without a rationale provided. For 

this ward, however, <strong>the</strong>re were no requests for 

dismissal from any parties; hence <strong>the</strong> guardian 

appointment remained intact. 

One hundred and thirty three guardians 

reported that <strong>the</strong>y did not have power over 

<strong>the</strong> ward’s estate; hence most of <strong>the</strong>se guardians 

did not submit a summary of expenditures. 

Interestingly, 15 of <strong>the</strong>se guardians did 

write information about <strong>the</strong> ward’s estate, 

even though <strong>the</strong> courts did not request this. 

One guardian, who did not have by court 

order rights over finances, provided <strong>the</strong> court 

with quite detailed information. Within a one- 


year period, <strong>the</strong> ward received $5,888 from 

SSI, $3,921.16 from FIA for in home help, 

$666.22 for insurance reimbursement, and 

$752.50 from Community Mental Health to 

help pay for respite services. In addition, <strong>the</strong> 

ward’s income throughout <strong>the</strong> same year was 

spent on: (a) room and board (in <strong>the</strong> parent’s 

home $3,000), (b) respite ($1,850.60), (c) 

clothing ($456.79), (d) school lunches 

($345.21), (e) home help services ($3,473), 

(f) diapers and equipment ($1,209.05), (g) 

entertainment ($790.04 including shows, 

camps, sport tickets, movie rentals, dining out, 

CDs and tapes, (h) haircuts ($52.50), and (i) 

gifts for o<strong>the</strong>rs ($83.49). Ano<strong>the</strong>r guardian, 

who did not have legal powers over <strong>the</strong> estate, 

wrote, “<strong>the</strong> ward gets SSI and this helps defray 

costs of household costs, food and clothing.” 

The quality of <strong>the</strong> 29 financial reports from 

those who were to be held accountable for 

expenditures ranged from sparse (n 9) to 

detailed (n 20). Examples of detailed reports 

are similar to that which was previously 

presented. An example of a sparse report included; 

within a one year period, <strong>the</strong> ward 

received $6,469 (SSI) and $3,600 (work wages); 

within <strong>the</strong> same year <strong>the</strong> ward’s money was 

spent on rent ($7,250) and miscellaneous 

($2,819). Only on one occasion, following <strong>the</strong> 

guardian’s submitting a financial report to <strong>the</strong> 

courts, did a judge order a GAL to investigate 

whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> expenditures were reasonable. 

Specifically, <strong>the</strong> judge had a concern regarding 

<strong>the</strong> expense of a wheelchair accessible van 

(approximately $22,000) and computer 

equipment (approximately $10,000). The 

GAL found that <strong>the</strong> expenses were justifiable. 


One desired outcome of this study was to obtain 

an understanding as to why petitions for 

guardianship were filed. Although <strong>the</strong> openended 

question produced a number of responses, 

reasons for filing remain unclear. 

Section 330.1609 of <strong>the</strong> Mental Health Code 

states that <strong>the</strong> “facts and reasons for <strong>the</strong> need 

for guardianship” along with “a factual description 

of <strong>the</strong> nature and extent of <strong>the</strong> 

ward’s developmental disability” are needed 

on <strong>the</strong> petition, yet <strong>the</strong> form does not provide 

such specific questions. It could be gleaned 

from a review of information found on <strong>the</strong> 

petition that <strong>the</strong> disability label was often used 


to show just cause of a guardian appointment. 

However, disability alone does not equate with 

incapacity resulting in a need for guardianship. 

Inability to make sound decisions in all circumstances 

was a reoccurring issue, compounded 

by <strong>the</strong> young adult reaching <strong>the</strong> age 

of majority. Four petitioners wrote that <strong>the</strong>ir 

reason for filing was that <strong>the</strong>ir child turned 18 

and was not able to make informed decisions. 

At <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> petition, 113 wards were 18 

years of age, and five were about to reach 

majority. In addition, most of <strong>the</strong> wards remained 

in school at <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> petition. 

IDEA states that once <strong>the</strong> student reaches <strong>the</strong> 

age of majority, parental rights must be transferred 

to <strong>the</strong> young adult, unless <strong>the</strong> student is 

considered to be “incompetent.” Interpretations 

as to who determines <strong>the</strong> young adults’ 

competence have yet to be provided by legislatures. 

More examination of <strong>the</strong> ward’s age 

and school influence (be it providing families 

with guardianship information and/or IDEA 

interpretations) relative to petitions being 

filed is needed. 

Evidence. Ano<strong>the</strong>r outcome anticipated 

from review of court files was <strong>the</strong> identification 

of <strong>the</strong> source or type of evidence used to 

“prove” <strong>the</strong> young adults’ functional abilities. 

Contents of <strong>the</strong> evaluations presented to <strong>the</strong> 

court, however, were not available for review 

for <strong>the</strong> majority of court files as <strong>the</strong>y were 

sealed in accordance with <strong>the</strong> Mental Health 

Code mandates (MCLA 330.1612). This barrier 

was also observed in o<strong>the</strong>r studies that 

examined guardianship of <strong>the</strong> elderly (Lisi et 

al., 1994). According to section 330.1612 of 

<strong>the</strong> Mental Health Code, <strong>the</strong> adjoining report 

must contain <strong>the</strong> following: (a) description of 

<strong>the</strong> nature and type developmental disability; 

and (b) current evaluations of <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward’s mental, physical, social, and educational 

condition, adaptive behavior, and social 

skills. As can be extrapolated from <strong>the</strong> definition, 

<strong>the</strong> purpose of evaluation is twofold. 

First, it serves an identification purpose by 

determining whe<strong>the</strong>r a young adult has a developmental 

disability that adversely affects 

<strong>the</strong>ir ability to perform life tasks. Second, it 

provides information regarding <strong>the</strong> young 

adult’s skills and attributes across all adult 

environments. Both are required and expected 

outcomes of <strong>the</strong> evaluation process. If 

<strong>the</strong> young adult is deemed in need of a guard-

ian, <strong>the</strong> needs identified during <strong>the</strong> evaluation 

process should provide <strong>the</strong> basis for developing 

a plan of action for <strong>the</strong> guardian to 

help <strong>the</strong> young adult become as self-sufficient 

as possible, and fully implement <strong>the</strong> intent of 

<strong>the</strong> law (MCLA 330.1602). These concerns are 

also expressed in <strong>the</strong> special education literature 

with regard to assessing youth to identify 

<strong>the</strong>ir special needs (Salvia & Ysseldyke, 1998; 

Turnbull, Turnbull, Shank, & Leal, 1995). 

Based on a review of files that did mention 

type of evaluations conducted, evaluation 

practices tended to include standardized and 

norm-referenced tests (e.g., Slosson Intelligence 

Test - Revised; Vineland Adaptive Behavior 

Scale; Wechsler Adult Intelligence 

Scale - Revised), however, <strong>the</strong>se results usually 

have little utility for determining <strong>the</strong> specific 

needs of a ward. A need remains for multiple 

sources of information, and <strong>the</strong> information 

gleaned from any evaluation should directly 

assist <strong>the</strong> guardian in supporting <strong>the</strong> young 

adult to become self-reliant and independent. 

Wards’ rights. Previous studies have repeatedly 

found that wards were not present at 

guardianship hearings (Associated Press, 

1987; Iris, 1986; Lisi et al., 1994), even when 

required by law. In contrast, we found <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward was present at <strong>the</strong> majority of 

hearings (n 192, 86.8%). In addition, notices 

were presented to interested parties in a 

timely manner. Therefore, important changes 

in guardianship procedures are observable 

since <strong>the</strong> reform efforts began in <strong>the</strong> 1970s, 

giving hope to future reform efforts. 

One striking finding was that in two jurisdictions, 

court appointed attorneys acted as 

GALs. That is, <strong>the</strong>y provided <strong>the</strong> court with a 

letter of recommendation (submitted as evidence) 

regarding <strong>the</strong>ir opinion about 

whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y believed a guardian should be 

appointed. There was no evidence to suggest 

that <strong>the</strong> court redirected <strong>the</strong>se individual’s 

efforts to that of being an attorney instead of 

acting as a GAL. Alarmingly, in one jurisdiction, 

<strong>the</strong> courts appointed GALs, not attorneys. 

Therefore, 31 wards did not have proper 

representation throughout <strong>the</strong>ir guardianship 

proceedings. With this finding, education of 

attorneys, and judges, is necessary so that <strong>the</strong>y 

can fulfill <strong>the</strong>ir duties as counsel to <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward. 

Ano<strong>the</strong>r concern raised in studies conducted 

by Lisi et al. (1994), was that <strong>the</strong>re may 

be a difference between representation of alleged 

wards by court appointed attorneys and 

by privately retained attorneys. In this study, 

all alleged wards had counsel appointed by 

<strong>the</strong> court. Fur<strong>the</strong>r examination into <strong>the</strong> potential 

differences in representation is 

needed. 

Ward preferences. Alleged wards have <strong>the</strong> 

right to state <strong>the</strong>ir preference regarding who 

would be <strong>the</strong>ir guardian (MCLA 330.1628). 

On all occasions when asked by <strong>the</strong> judge, <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward requested <strong>the</strong> same person be 

appointed guardian that <strong>the</strong>ir petitioner did. 

Heal and Sigelman (1995) warned that <strong>the</strong> 

validity of responses by individuals with mental 

retardation during interviews is threatened 

by a number of biases. One bias is acquiescence, 

<strong>the</strong> disposition to answer “yes” regardless 

of <strong>the</strong> question asked (Heal & Sigelman). 

Validity of an interview with persons with limited 

intellectual ability depends greatly on format 

of <strong>the</strong> question. With knowledge of this 

bias, it raises questions regarding how <strong>the</strong> alleged 

wards were asked if <strong>the</strong>y had any objections 

to a guardian, and who <strong>the</strong>y preferred to 

be <strong>the</strong>ir guardian. Rephrasing “yes/no” questions 

to ei<strong>the</strong>r/or or multiple choice formats 

may circumvent acquiescence. Persons involved 

in interviewing alleged wards must take 

<strong>the</strong> time to find <strong>the</strong> best way to help make sure 

<strong>the</strong>ir true opinions are being presented. 

Annual reports. Ano<strong>the</strong>r anticipated outcome 

from this study was to obtain information 

needed to refine existing guardianship 

awareness training and o<strong>the</strong>r activities for 

family members, members of <strong>the</strong> judiciary, 

and community agency service providers. In 

general, courts facilitate guardians providing 

annual reports detailing <strong>the</strong> ward’s condition 

by stating responsibilities of <strong>the</strong> guardian, including 

writing annual reports regarding <strong>the</strong> 

ward’s condition, in <strong>the</strong> initial guardianship 

order; and by providing <strong>the</strong> guardian with 

forms necessary to complete <strong>the</strong> report, along 

with <strong>the</strong> financial account if applicable. In 

light of some of <strong>the</strong> questions presented to <strong>the</strong> 

courts by guardians, it seems as though more 

assistance from <strong>the</strong> courts is needed in helping 

guardians understand <strong>the</strong>ir role. 

It can be inferred from <strong>the</strong> Michigan Mental 

Health Code (MCLA 330.1600) that <strong>the</strong> 

guardian is responsible for actively working 

towards <strong>the</strong> goal of limiting or terminating 

guardianship, and is to encourage appropri- 


ate restoration, maintenance, or development 

of maximum self-reliance and independence 

in <strong>the</strong> person <strong>the</strong>y oversee. That is, <strong>the</strong> Mental 

Health Code is targeting more than maintaining 

<strong>the</strong> status quo. However, in this study, <strong>the</strong> 

majority of guardians reported that <strong>the</strong> wards’ 

condition had virtually remained <strong>the</strong> same. If 

intent of <strong>the</strong> statute is to help <strong>the</strong> wards fur<strong>the</strong>r 

develop <strong>the</strong>ir independent skills, <strong>the</strong>n 

restrictions such as using a $1.00 or less or 

only going on <strong>the</strong> backyard porch need to be 

re-examined. Modification of guardian orders, 

as well as use of alternatives, should continually 

be assessed at least on an annual basis 

following <strong>the</strong> appointment. 

Has <strong>the</strong> appointing of a guardian solved <strong>the</strong> 

problem? One concern raised by advocates 

for persons who are elderly and disabled is 

that, just because a guardian is appointed, it is 

not going to completely protect <strong>the</strong> person. 

That is, having a guardian is not going to solve 

all <strong>the</strong> problems. One example found in this 

study involves a young man who has mild mental 

retardation. His mo<strong>the</strong>r filed a petition 

because her son “was unable to make appropriate 

decisions regarding his life, and was 

unable to completely care for himself.” When 

asked who he wanted to be his guardian, he 

did not respond. The judge found <strong>the</strong> young 

man to be able to make some (not specified), 

but not all, decisions and appointed his 

mo<strong>the</strong>r as his partial guardian. His mo<strong>the</strong>r 

was given authority to make all decisions, except 

for <strong>the</strong> ward’s right to make decisions on 

daily dress and daily programs and activities 

except as set forth above. Without <strong>the</strong> knowledge 

of his mo<strong>the</strong>r, he moved into his girlfriend’s 

mo<strong>the</strong>r’s home. His girlfriend was 

pregnant, claiming that <strong>the</strong> young man was 

<strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r. The court ordered a DNA test to 

determine <strong>the</strong> baby’s paternity, only to find 

out that <strong>the</strong> young man was not <strong>the</strong> child’s 

fa<strong>the</strong>r. The point is, <strong>the</strong> mo<strong>the</strong>r had petitioned 

in order to protect her son, however, 

he still made decisions without her knowledge. 

She couldn’t “protect” him. This raises 

<strong>the</strong> question, has <strong>the</strong> guardian appointment 

addressed <strong>the</strong> petitioner’s concern(s)? 

Have guardians exceeded <strong>the</strong> bounds of <strong>the</strong>ir 

legally granted authority? Model standards to 

ensure quality guardianship and representative 

payeeship services (which were based on a 

report submitted from a Michigan task force) 

were presented to <strong>the</strong> Select Committee on 

Aging, House of Representatives in 1989 (Select 

Committee on Aging, House of Representatives, 

1989). One of <strong>the</strong> standards addressed 

guardians exceeding <strong>the</strong>ir authority. More 

specifically, authority of <strong>the</strong> guardian is limited 

to only those that were expressly assigned 

to <strong>the</strong>m by <strong>the</strong> court. There is concern, however, 

that rights <strong>the</strong> ward retains and those 

that are given to <strong>the</strong> guardian become indistinguishable. 

This is especially a concern 

when <strong>the</strong> guardian has power over <strong>the</strong> ward’s 

finances, as this would affect <strong>the</strong> ward’s personal 

decisions. As described in <strong>the</strong> results 

section, one guardian, who did not have legal 

power over <strong>the</strong> estate, wrote, “<strong>the</strong> ward gets 

SSI and this helps defray costs of household 

costs, food and clothing.” This represents an 

inappropriate assumption of <strong>the</strong> ward’s remaining 

rights. There was no indication of <strong>the</strong> 

courts responding to <strong>the</strong>se guardians, reminding 

<strong>the</strong>m of <strong>the</strong>ir duties. There is adequate 

cause to be concerned about guardians overstepping 

<strong>the</strong>ir authority. 

Implications 


Self-determination has been argued to be <strong>the</strong> 

means of empowering individuals with disabilities 

to assume leadership attributes, and an 

impetus for future directions in <strong>the</strong> education 

of young adults with disabilities (Ward & Halloran, 

1993; Wehmeyer, 1998). Identification 

of validated skills and knowledge is essential in 

order to shape intervention approaches that 

assist youth and young adults with disabilities 

to become and remain self-determined and 

self-sufficient individuals. Additionally, families, 

school personnel, community service providers 

and members of <strong>the</strong> judiciary must have 

such information in order for <strong>the</strong>m to provide 

appropriate supports and utilize effective 

strategies to enable youth and young adults 

with disabilities to assume adult roles and responsibilities 

without <strong>the</strong> threat of loss of <strong>the</strong>ir 

civil rights at some future time. 

Evaluation changes. Evaluation procedures, 

as written in <strong>the</strong> Michigan Mental Health 

Code are only performed once, at <strong>the</strong> beginning 

of <strong>the</strong> guardianship process. However, 

evaluation addressing adult daily living skills 

(including decision making) should be a continuing 

process throughout <strong>the</strong> duration of 

<strong>the</strong> guardianship term, as a part of <strong>the</strong> annual 

review, so that up-to-date, accurate, and rele-

vant information is provided to <strong>the</strong> courts, 

guardians and wards. 

Unlike results found in previous guardianship 

studies (Iris, 1989; Lisi et al., 1994), <strong>the</strong> 

person who performed <strong>the</strong> evaluation, or had 

major part in <strong>the</strong> evaluation, testified at <strong>the</strong> 

hearing. This raises <strong>the</strong> issue of how much 

weight <strong>the</strong> evaluators’ testimony played in <strong>the</strong> 

judges’ decision. Information regarding 

length of <strong>the</strong> hearing was available in 31 cases. 

Time range of <strong>the</strong> hearing was 4 minutes to 1 

hour and 25 minutes; <strong>the</strong> mode was 7 minutes, 

and only one hearing exceeded an hour. 

Because <strong>the</strong> hearings may be short in length, 

perhaps it is not so much <strong>the</strong> testimony, but 

ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> evaluation results and recommendations 

from <strong>the</strong> evaluator that influence 

judges’ decisions. This raises <strong>the</strong> concern that 

one person may have enormous influence 

over <strong>the</strong> judges’ decisions. Therefore, a team 

approach (including <strong>the</strong> alleged ward, family 

members, service providers, and school personnel) 

should be mandated so that an array 

of expertise could give <strong>the</strong> judge a holistic 

assessment of <strong>the</strong> alleged ward’s capabilities. 

Educating attorneys and judges. It would 

serve <strong>the</strong> alleged wards well if attorneys and 

judges were also educated in <strong>the</strong> area of disability, 

particularly <strong>the</strong> field of special education. 

Members of <strong>the</strong> judicial system should 

become familiar with <strong>the</strong> language and history 

of legislation such as (a) Section 504 (a component 

of <strong>the</strong> Vocational Rehabilitation Act of 

1973 that applies to all Americans with disabilities 

regardless of age); (b) IDEA (which guarantees 

<strong>the</strong> right to a free appropriate public 

education, nondiscriminatory evaluation, procedural 

due process, and Individualized Education 

Program including transition services, 

and education in <strong>the</strong> least restrictive environment); 

and (c) <strong>the</strong> ADA (an act of Congress 

that prohibits discrimination against individuals 

with disabilities). Educational emphasis 

such as community based instruction, transitional 

planning, inclusion and vocational 

training should be known by members of <strong>the</strong> 

judicial system so that <strong>the</strong>y can work with <strong>the</strong> 

school and family member to encourage <strong>the</strong> 

young adults’ self-reliance. 

In addition, members of <strong>the</strong> judicial system 

need to be aware that persons with disabilities 

can and do lead quality adult lives when given 

<strong>the</strong> appropriate support. For example, <strong>the</strong>re 

are a number of employment options (e.g., 

competitive employment, supported employment) 

available for individuals with disabilities. 

Systematic instruction, flexibility within 

<strong>the</strong> work setting and individual characteristics 

are factors that are looked at when it comes 

time for employment and determining which 

option is <strong>the</strong> most appropriate for a particular 

person. Like everyone, members of <strong>the</strong> judicial 

system need to be aware that individuals 

with disabilities participate in recreation and 

leisure activities. Schleien and colleagues have 

found that not only can individuals learn leisure 

skills, but also found that <strong>the</strong>re were numerous 

opportunities for making choices and 

socializing. These are skills associated with 

self-determination (Rynders & Schleien, 1991; 

Schleien, Ray, & Green, 1996). 

Since <strong>the</strong> late 1960s, <strong>the</strong>re has been a substantial 

shift in placement patterns from residential/institutional 

to community settings 

(Anderson, Polister, Prouty, & Lakin, 1996). 

Approximately 30 years ago, 84% of persons 

with developmental disabilities resided in 

large institutions, whereas today, about 32% 

do so. Fur<strong>the</strong>r, 52% of <strong>the</strong> 314,000 people 

receiving residential services in 1995 received 

<strong>the</strong>m in community settings where six or 

fewer people lived, and 24% of <strong>the</strong>se (n 

75,000) received services in homes for three 

or fewer people (Anderson et al.). Of <strong>the</strong>se 

24%, <strong>the</strong> individuals with disabilities owned or 

rented a home and individualized support 

came to <strong>the</strong> home as needed. It is important 

that attorneys and judges be aware of quality, 

comprehensive assessments and examine less 

restrictive alternatives to guardianship. These 

later topics are not new guardianship concerns 

(Lisi et al., 1994), and parallel issues in 

<strong>the</strong> field of special education. After having 

been involved in a number of guardianship 

cases, a needs/interest assessment of <strong>the</strong> attorneys 

and judges may be of value and have 

much to say about what has been occurring 

and <strong>the</strong>ir willingness to fully implement <strong>the</strong> 

intent of <strong>the</strong> guardianship legislation. Lisi and 

colleagues suggested that in addition to formal 

teachings of attorneys and judges, a manual 

be developed for <strong>the</strong>ir reference. Such a 

reference should provide up to date information 

regarding characteristics of specific disabilities, 

being careful to avoid stereotyping, 

effects of medication on cognitive functioning 

and information that should be included in 


quality assessments of an alleged ward’s capacity 

to perform adult responsibilities. 

Educating families and school personnel. Although 

IDEA does not state that “incompetent” 

students, when <strong>the</strong>y reach <strong>the</strong> age of 

majority, should have guardians, <strong>the</strong> implication 

for school encouragement of parental 

action to take such steps is alarming. In order 

to prevent this potential of a perceived need 

for a guardian, it is essential that families and 

educators understand <strong>the</strong> guardianship process 

and ramifications of guardianship imposition 

well before <strong>the</strong> student reaches <strong>the</strong> age 

of majority. The IEP team could even tailor 

<strong>the</strong> IEP goals and objectives with <strong>the</strong> aim to 

prevent guardianship imposition (Millar & 

Renzaglia, 2002). 

Educators, in partnership with family members 

and community service providers, are responsible 

for facilitating <strong>the</strong> transition from 

school to adult life for students with disabilities. 

An important aspect of this facilitation is 

to teach youth <strong>the</strong> skills associated with selfdetermination 

(Wehmeyer, Agran, & Hughes, 

2000; Thoma, Rogan, & Baker, 2001). However, 

for many youths, educational program 

planning remains something that happens to 

<strong>the</strong>m, ra<strong>the</strong>r than with <strong>the</strong>m (Field, 1997; 

Ward & Kohler, 1996; Wehmeyer, 1998). The 

question remains, however, where do educators 

and family members learn about how to 

facilitate <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong>se skills? Even 

when educators and family members understand 

<strong>the</strong> importance of facilitating such skills, 

<strong>the</strong>y do not always recognize and support student 

preferences, interests and choices (Agran, 

Snow, & Swaner, 1999; Houghton, 

Bronicki, & Guess, 1987; Parsons & Reid, 

1990; Thoma, Nathanson, & Baker, 2002; 

Thoma et al., 2001). For example, Thoma and 

colleagues (2001) found that teachers engaged 

in behaviors that stifled student selfdetermination. 

Their behaviors included interpreting 

students; asking questions that 

students were unprepared to respond to; answering 

questions for students; and not allowing 

students to explore community living or 

employment opportunities for fear that <strong>the</strong>y 

would make an unwise decision. 

Alleged ward’s participation. Increasing <strong>the</strong> 

alleged ward’s participation in <strong>the</strong> guardianship 

hearing has been recommended by a 

number of researchers (see Iris, 1986; Lisi et 

al., 1994). Unlike previous studies of <strong>the</strong> el- 


derly, <strong>the</strong> majority of wards in this study were 

in attendance at <strong>the</strong> hearings. However, presence 

cannot be equated with participation. As 

mentioned previously, court hearings lasted 

seven minutes, which is hardly enough time 

for judges to observe and listen to <strong>the</strong> alleged 

ward. In <strong>the</strong> same way that students are being 

taught to participate in <strong>the</strong> IEP process, alleged 

wards should be taught what guardianship 

entails. Family members, school personnel, 

and community service providers and 

members of <strong>the</strong> judicial system must be encouraged 

to conduct a checks and balance 

system to ensure that (a) less restrictive alternatives 

were explored and implemented 

where appropriate, (b) <strong>the</strong> proposed guardian 

is competent, trustworthy, and a ward advocate, 

and (c) <strong>the</strong> judges orders are individualized 

to meet <strong>the</strong> specific needs of <strong>the</strong> ward 

without unnecessary deprivation of rights. 

Qualified guardians. Hurme (1991) suggested 

that all guardians should be knowledgeable 

about community resources, housing 

options, accounting and public benefits 

for <strong>the</strong>ir wards. The questions posed by guardians 

from this study support <strong>the</strong> notion that 

video tapes, formal trainings, samples of acceptable 

paper work and manuals are ways 

courts can provide assistance to guardians 

with respect to <strong>the</strong>ir responsibilities and available 

community resources (Hurme, 1991). In 

fact, Hurme (1991) suggested that prior to a 

court appointment, potential guardians be required 

to review videos or manuals prepared 

by or endorsed by <strong>the</strong> courts. Findings from 

this study support this proposal. 

Monitoring is <strong>the</strong> process by which <strong>the</strong> 

court determines whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> purpose of 

guardianship is being fulfilled. Essentially, <strong>the</strong> 

court becomes ongoing protector of <strong>the</strong> ward, 

in contrast to most court activities in which 

once a legal decision is made, court involvement 

is terminated (Hurme, 1998). The primary 

mechanism for monitoring guardian activities 

is self-reporting. There is inherent 

conflict of interest with <strong>the</strong>se annual report 

procedures. Hurme (1991) suggests that <strong>the</strong> 

following methods can be used to monitor <strong>the</strong> 

quality of reports and appropriateness of <strong>the</strong> 

services: use court investigators to interview 

wards and guardians, and scrutinize documents 

found in court files (approve or deny 

guardian reports based on meeting a specific 

criterion for adequate reports); and use vol-

unteers to perform <strong>the</strong> previously stated tasks. 

Of all <strong>the</strong> court files in which annual reports 

were on record (n 164), <strong>the</strong>re was only one 

time when a judge ordered a GAL to investigate 

<strong>the</strong> usage of a ward’s money (e.g., <strong>the</strong> 

purchase of a $22,000 van). This type of oversight 

may be needed more often. 

Limitations 

Although important information was obtained 

while researching guardianship practice, 

limitations of this study must be noted. 

For example, <strong>the</strong>re is question about <strong>the</strong> representation 

of <strong>the</strong> sample given its relatively 

small size, coming from a limited number of 

jurisdictions and all from one State. Because 

this is one of <strong>the</strong> first studies exploring guardianship 

practices where young adults with developmental 

disabilities are involved, it is 

strongly suggested that fur<strong>the</strong>r exploration be 

conducted across more young adults, jurisdictions 

and states to determine whe<strong>the</strong>r generalizations 

of <strong>the</strong>se findings are possible. Also, 

<strong>the</strong>re are inherent limitations of surveys and 

review of files. Interpretations of terms and 

thoroughness of responses on a form leave 

questions about validity of <strong>the</strong> information 

gleaned from court files. 

Future Research 

A ward may lose many or all rights as an adult 

citizen depending upon state statutes and <strong>the</strong> 

extent of authority given to <strong>the</strong> guardian. Because 

of this potential loss of rights, advocates 

have stated that guardianship should be considered 

as a last resort, and if ever imposed 

should be used to encourage <strong>the</strong> development 

of self-reliance (Iris & Wallach, 1986; Lisi et 

al., 1994). Based on a review of guardianship 

literature, <strong>the</strong>re has not been a study conducted 

in which a ward with a developmental 

disability, <strong>the</strong>ir respective petitioner or guardian 

were interviewed to determine how guardianship 

has affected <strong>the</strong>ir lives. A more intense 

look at what happens to <strong>the</strong> ward once <strong>the</strong>y 

enter <strong>the</strong> guardianship system is needed as 

little is known about what happens after <strong>the</strong> 

decision is made. Annual reports that are currently 

being presented to <strong>the</strong> court lack depth 

and detail. Data are also lacking with regard to 

whe<strong>the</strong>r guardianship has achieved that which 

it was hoped to do. 

Research is also needed to increase our understanding 

of what steps are necessary to 

build collaborative links between <strong>the</strong> home, 

school, community service agencies, and judicial 

system. As Bro<strong>the</strong>rson, Cook, Cunconan- 

Lahr, and Wehmeyer (1995) pointed out, in 

<strong>the</strong> home environment, research must examine 

how families provide choice opportunities 

and what supports are needed to help <strong>the</strong>m 

arrange environments to maximize autonomy 

of individuals with disabilities. In addition, research 

is needed that identifies <strong>the</strong> supports 

and strains that school, social services, and 

judicial members face as <strong>the</strong>y collaborate with 

families and persons with developmental disabilities. 

Educating attorneys, and perhaps 

judges, is necessary so that <strong>the</strong>y can fulfill <strong>the</strong>ir 

duties as charged. 

Much of <strong>the</strong> framework needed for an improved 

guardianship system already exists in 

<strong>the</strong> Mental Health Code. “Guardianships for 

individuals with developmental disabilities 

shall be utilized only as necessary to promote 

and protect <strong>the</strong> well being of <strong>the</strong> individual. 

. .and shall be designed to encourage <strong>the</strong> 

development of maximum self-reliance and 

independence in <strong>the</strong> individual” (MCLA 

330.1602). Research is needed in order to 

narrow <strong>the</strong> gap between ideals set forth in <strong>the</strong> 

code and actual practice. Because this study 

did not provide much information about quality 

or contents of evidence used to “prove” a 

young adults incapacity, fur<strong>the</strong>r research into 

<strong>the</strong> types of evaluations used and <strong>the</strong>ir influence 

on court determinations is needed. Results 

of such a study could provide insight as to 

what type of information evaluations provide 

and what <strong>the</strong>y should provide in order to help 

young adults maximize <strong>the</strong>ir independence. 

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Accountability in Collaboration: A Framework for Evaluation 

Jack Hourcade 

Boise State University 

Holly Anderson 


Phil Parette 

Illinois State University 

Abstract: Accountability is perhaps <strong>the</strong> most significant issue facing educators today. How can school 

professionals document that <strong>the</strong>ir work results in significant positive outcomes? This issue is especially critical 

to <strong>the</strong> many special and general educators moving into collaborative partnerships, given <strong>the</strong> dramatic shifts in 

<strong>the</strong>ir professional roles inherent in this move. A 2 2 “Collaboration Evaluation Matrix” outlines two basic 

types of information (objective and subjective) and two basic dimensions of any program (processes and 

outcomes) that might be considered in evaluation of collaboration. Multiple data sources enhance validity and 

utility of <strong>the</strong>se evaluation efforts. 

One of <strong>the</strong> most dramatic recent developments 

in American education has been <strong>the</strong> 

increasing call for “teacher accountability” 

from various constituencies of <strong>the</strong> public 

schools. Many political leaders are questioning 

enhancing financial resources provided to 

schools without tangible assurances that 

teachers are indeed effective in <strong>the</strong>ir work. 

To more effectively respond to changing 

student characteristics and needs, both general 

and special educators are incorporating a 

variety of significant structural changes into 

<strong>the</strong>ir work. One especially promising approach 

is a higher degree of professional sharing 

among teachers; that is, educational collaboration 

(Pugach & Johnson, 2002). 

Collaboration is defined as “ . . . an ongoing 

style of professional interaction in which 

school professionals voluntarily engage in 

shared (a) program planning, (b) program 

implementation, (c) program evaluation, and 

(d) program accountability” (Hourcade & 

Bauwens, 2003, p. 7). Unfortunately, in evaluating 

<strong>the</strong> effectiveness of collaboration <strong>the</strong>re 

is not always consensus on ei<strong>the</strong>r what should 

be measured, or how it should be measured. 


be addressed to Jack Hourcade, MS 1725, College of 

Education, Boise State University, Boise, ID 83725. 

Understanding Program Evaluation 


McLaughlin and McLaughlin (1993) provided 

a useful framework for thinking about evaluation. 

Evaluation is a process through which 

information is collected that allows people to 

make comparisons with predetermined standards. 

Evaluation plans must begin with a specific 

purpose (or purposes) of <strong>the</strong> evaluation 

in mind. In this, evaluators should be able to 

answer two questions. 

● Who are potential consumers of information 

to be generated by <strong>the</strong> evaluation? 

● What is it those consumers should know? 

Possible consumers of information about a 

school’s implementation of professional collaboration 

include: 

● parents 

● educators presently involved in collaboration 

● educators not presently involved in collaboration 

● professors in teacher preparation programs 

at universities 

● staff development professionals and educational 

consultants in school districts or educational 

support centers 

● educational administrators 

● state legislators 

● educational researchers

All of <strong>the</strong>se potential users have different 

questions <strong>the</strong>y would like answered through 

evaluations of collaboration. Identification of 

primary recipients of evaluation results is <strong>the</strong> 

first step in design of a functional system for 

program evaluation. 

Evaluating Collaboration 

One way to conceptualize evaluation of collaboration 

is to think about how homeowners 

might evaluate a home remodeling project. 

First, during construction work, <strong>the</strong> homeowner 

might monitor whe<strong>the</strong>r each different 

subcontracted jobs (e.g., electrical, flooring, 

painting) is being done as agreed upon. In 

addition, after <strong>the</strong> work has been completed, 

<strong>the</strong> homeowner might check to see that results 

(e.g., dimensions, specifications) that 

were decided upon beforehand actually were 

achieved. In this process <strong>the</strong> homeowner evaluated 

what was being done, as well as an after<strong>the</strong>-fact 

evaluation of <strong>the</strong> results or outcomes. 

These two types of evaluations are processes 

evaluation, and outcomes evaluation. 

In addition, in doing this evaluation <strong>the</strong> 

homeowner may objectively measure such 

things as <strong>the</strong> quality ratings and <strong>the</strong> number 

of coats of paint, whe<strong>the</strong>r windows are <strong>the</strong> 

correct size as agreed to beforehand, and so 

forth. In addition to this objective data, however, 

<strong>the</strong> home owner usually develops a sub- 

Figure 1. Data type matrix in collaboration evaluation. 

jective sense of whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> selected colors 

actually feel as pleasant as was expected, 

whe<strong>the</strong>r window size is providing <strong>the</strong> sense of 

airiness that was hoped for, and so on. In 

doing both types of examinations <strong>the</strong> homeowner 

is conducting analyses of both <strong>the</strong> objective 

and subjective dimensions. 

Thus, one way to think about evaluating 

collaboration is to conceptualize a 2 2 matrix 

with four cells, each containing a different 

type of information. One half of <strong>the</strong> matrix 

includes <strong>the</strong> two types of information that 

might be collected: objective information 

(conclusions based on impersonal data) or 

subjective information (conclusions based on 

personal perceptions). The o<strong>the</strong>r half includes 

two specific dimensions of <strong>the</strong> evaluation: 

(a) <strong>the</strong> processes that are being used in 

<strong>the</strong> program and (b) <strong>the</strong> outcomes of those 

processes. As illustrated in Figure 1, this 2 2 

matrix yields four possible types of data that 

might be generated in an evaluation of collaboration: 

● objective analyses of <strong>the</strong> processes of collaboration 

● objective analyses of <strong>the</strong> outcomes of collaboration 

● subjective analyses of <strong>the</strong> processes of collaboration 

● subjective analyses of <strong>the</strong> outcomes of collaboration 

Accountability in Collaboration / 399

Objective Versus Subjective Information 

In beginning evaluation of collaboration, educators 

must decide whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> evaluation 

will be based on objective (impersonal and 

empirically-derived) information, subjective 

(personal perception and opinion) information, 

or some combination of both. Each has 

potential advantages, and contributes significant 

perspectives. 

Objective data. Objective information consists 

of observable data uninfluenced by personal 

opinion. For example, in evaluating <strong>the</strong> 

planning component of collaboration, evaluators 

might learn from written records that 

<strong>the</strong> partners in collaboration had met every 

week for <strong>the</strong> last three months. These data 

would be identical for any observer, and are 

only minimally subject to personal interpretation. 

O<strong>the</strong>r possible types of objective data 

might include: 

● number of hours <strong>the</strong> two educators actually 

spent collaborating in <strong>the</strong> same classroom 

● standardized test scores of students in classrooms 

where collaboration was implemented 

compared to those not so taught 

● time spent in training for collaboration 

● amount of money spent to support collaboration 

Subjective data. Subjective information, 

while often less clear-cut, can provide valuable 

insights not available through more objective 

databases. Subjective evaluation often includes 

asking significant individuals to record 

<strong>the</strong>ir personal impressions of various aspects 

of <strong>the</strong> program, typically using a Likert-type 

scale. These scales provide a number of items 

to which respondents give <strong>the</strong>ir reaction by 

indicating <strong>the</strong>ir degree of agreement or disagreement 

with statements made. Often <strong>the</strong>se 

evaluation incorporate a1to5scale wherein 

“1” indicates strong agreement with an item, 

while a “5” indicates strong disagreement. 

Subjective data might be ga<strong>the</strong>red on both 

educator and student perceptions of a variety 

of aspects of collaboration, including <strong>the</strong> following: 

● quality and effectiveness of help that students 

who are struggling receive 

● perceived clarity of lessons that are presented 


● overall level of personal and professional 

satisfaction of <strong>the</strong> educators engaged in collaboration 

● overall level of personal and professional 

satisfaction of <strong>the</strong>ir students 

For example, educators participating in collaboration 

might respond to an item that says, 

“I learned new instructional strategies from 

my partner.” If <strong>the</strong> average score for this item 

among <strong>the</strong> respondents is 4.4 (with a “1” indicating 

strong agreement and a “5” indicating 

strong disagreement), <strong>the</strong>n one might 

conclude that <strong>the</strong> collaborative potential for 

participants to learn from one ano<strong>the</strong>r is not 

being fully achieved. In addition, one might 

also sum up all scores from each respondent 

to obtain an overall subjective sense of how 

effective <strong>the</strong> processes have been, and to gain 

an understanding of how favorably any particular 

respondent feels overall about collaboration. 

Nei<strong>the</strong>r objective nor subjective evaluative 

information alone provides an accurate analysis 

of <strong>the</strong> effectiveness of collaboration. The 

combination of both objective and subjective 

information yields <strong>the</strong> most comprehensive 

representation. 

Process Evaluation Versus Outcomes Evaluation 

Many educators have had <strong>the</strong> experience of 

implementing some program that was described 

as “can’t miss,” going through <strong>the</strong> prescribed 

training and subsequent instructions 

and procedures exactly as specified, only to 

find <strong>the</strong> results disappointing, discouraging, 

or unsuccessful. Given <strong>the</strong> inexact nature of 

education, it simply is not possible to develop 

a school program that possesses absolute specificity 

and predictability of results. 

For evaluative purposes, it may be useful to 

distinguish between two distinct dimensions 

of collaboration. These are (a) <strong>the</strong> individual 

component processes that in total comprise <strong>the</strong> 

program, and (b) <strong>the</strong> resulting outcomes of <strong>the</strong> 

implementation of collaboration. Evaluation 

of both <strong>the</strong>se dimensions may be necessary. 

Process evaluation. To be useful to o<strong>the</strong>rs, a 

successful program should be replicable. This 

requires <strong>the</strong> implementers to clearly identify 

for o<strong>the</strong>rs specific steps, procedures and pro-

cesses that <strong>the</strong>y followed. Given this, one approach 

toward evaluating collaboration is to 

identify and evaluate various component processes 

involved in it. For example, evaluators 

might base <strong>the</strong>ir analysis in part on an examination 

of such agreed-upon processes as frequency 

of planning for collaboration, productivity 

of those sessions in generating practical 

plans, and so forth. 

At its simplest level, process evaluation involves 

two steps. First, evaluators must identify 

and agree upon <strong>the</strong> component processes inherent 

in <strong>the</strong> program. Second, those identified 

processes are <strong>the</strong>n evaluated. 

Outcomes evaluation. School professionals 

design and implement new programs to respond 

to some perceived needs that presently 

are unmet, and to achieve some desired result. 

Evaluation of any program should determine 

how well <strong>the</strong>se needs were met, and to what 

extent <strong>the</strong> desired outcomes were achieved. 

Typically collaboration is designed to achieve 

both objective and subjective outcomes. Thus 

<strong>the</strong> evaluation of outcomes may incorporate objective 

information, subjective information, or 

both. 

For example, a collaborative effort may be 

designed and implemented in part to provide 

students with more effective instruction in basic 

academic skills. Measures of success of that 

goal might include such objective data as 

school-wide scores on standardized achievement 

tests, informal reading inventories, and 

curriculum-based assessment measures. 

However, ano<strong>the</strong>r desired outcome of <strong>the</strong> 

implementation of collaboration might be to 

facilitate a greater sense of camaraderie 

among educators at that school, a feeling that 

<strong>the</strong>y all share <strong>the</strong> same goal (for example, <strong>the</strong> 

effective education of all students in that 

school). Evaluating this personally subjective 

outcome might require <strong>the</strong> construction of a 

Likert-type scale. (Sample item: “After having 

participated in collaboration, I now believe 

that I have greater professional responsibility 

for all students at this school.”) Individual 

participants’ responses to this item can yield 

an emerging data base from which to judge 

whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> desired outcome of shared responsibility 

among all educators is being 

achieved through <strong>the</strong> collaboration program. 

It is typical for a program to show greater 

success with some of <strong>the</strong>se types of data than 

with o<strong>the</strong>rs. The relative weight and importance 

of each of <strong>the</strong> four categories of data 

should be determined before <strong>the</strong> evaluation 

begins. 

Determining Sources of Information 

Evaluation of collaboration should be guided 

primarily by a review of those factors that led 

educators to adopt a collaborative model in 

<strong>the</strong> first place. One way to begin is to group all 

possible sources of information into four general 

categories. These four categories are (a) 

students, (b) <strong>the</strong> educational system, (c) professional 

educators, and (d) parents and o<strong>the</strong>r 

outside parties. 

Student Information 

A near-universal <strong>the</strong>me in <strong>the</strong> professional literature 

is that <strong>the</strong> fundamental purpose of 

school restructuring must be enhancement of 

student learning (e.g., Barr & Parrett, 2001; 

Elmore, Peterson, & McCar<strong>the</strong>y, 1996; Newmann 

& Wehlage, 1995). The primacy of student 

outcomes as a foundation for evaluating 

<strong>the</strong> effectiveness of collaboration is difficult to 

argue. Student outcomes might include both 

subjective and objective sources of information. 

Objective student information. Policy makers 

throughout <strong>the</strong> country increasingly are asking 

that schools be held “accountable” for 

<strong>the</strong>ir work. Frequently that accountability is 

defined as objective data from state-mandated 

student achievement assessment scores (e.g., 

Barr & Parrett, 2001). Objective quantitative 

data are often easier for evaluators to collect 

than are subjective data. Objective data may 

also carry greater weight with initially skeptical 

audiences, especially with individuals who are 

not directly involved in education. 

Objective sources of information can be obtained 

from students who are participating in 

cooperatively taught programs, and compared 

to that obtained from similar students who are 

not participating in <strong>the</strong>se programs. Possible 

sources of objective student information include: 

● standardized test scores 


● passing rates on tests required for moving 

from grade to grade 

● curriculum-based measurement results 

● grades on homework, tests, and o<strong>the</strong>r educator-based 

evaluations of student performance 

● proportions of assignments completed 

● observations of rates of social interactions 

● observations of rates of on-task and o<strong>the</strong>r 

academic behaviors 

● mastery of IEP goals and objectives for students 

receiving special education services 

Subjective student information. Subjective 

sources of information might include development 

of a Likert-type scale to be given to 

students. Such an instrument might include 

such items as: 

● “Collaboration is helping me learn how to 

study better.” 

● “When both teachers are in <strong>the</strong> room our 

class has to slow down more for kids who are 

having trouble learning.” 

● “I think o<strong>the</strong>r teachers should come into 

our class to help kids who need help, instead 

of <strong>the</strong> kids leaving our class for help.” 

This instrument could <strong>the</strong>n be given to all 

students who are involved in teachers collaborating 

to ascertain how <strong>the</strong>se changes are 

perceived by <strong>the</strong> students. 

Educational System Information 

In addition to better meeting student needs, 

many schools implement collaborative arrangements 

to respond to perceived problems 

in <strong>the</strong> way contemporary schools are structured. 

For example, many educators express 

concern about <strong>the</strong> level of physical, social, and 

professional isolation from <strong>the</strong>ir colleagues 

that <strong>the</strong>y experience. Thus, a second source of 

information about <strong>the</strong> impact of collaboration 

is its impact on <strong>the</strong> overall school and educational 

system. 

Objective system information. There are a 

variety of objective data sources that can be 

reviewed to evaluate impact of collaboration 

on <strong>the</strong> overall educational system. These include: 

● frequency of suspensions, expulsions, and 

similar behavior-management interventions 

● absenteeism and dropout rates 

● retention rates 

● numbers of students on IEPs 

● numbers of students removed from <strong>the</strong> general 

classroom for segregated support services 

(e.g., Chapter 1, special education, 

speech and language, gifted and talented) 

Subjective system information. Subjective 

and personal opinions on effects of collaboration 

on <strong>the</strong> educational system can be solicited 

from a variety of professionals. These include 

general education teachers, support 

services providers, and/or administrators. A 

Likert-type scale developed to ga<strong>the</strong>r this information 

might include items such as: 

● “Fewer students ‘fall through <strong>the</strong> cracks’ 

in classes where collaboration is implemented.” 

● “Collaboration is less effective than our 

present arrangements in preventing small 

problems from becoming large ones.” 

● “Collaboration represents a less efficient use 

of our time than <strong>the</strong> present system.” 

● “Collaboration makes it more difficult to 

maintain consistent communications with 

parents.” 

Educator Information 

A third type of information about collaboration 

is its impact on <strong>the</strong> professionals providing 

educational services in <strong>the</strong> schools. Some 

of <strong>the</strong>se individuals include: 

● general and special educators 

● school administrators 

● Chapter 1 teachers 

● gifted and talented teachers 

● related services providers (e.g., speech, occupational, 

and physical <strong>the</strong>rapists) 

● school psychologists and counselors 

● paraprofessionals, teacher aides, and instructional 

assistants 

Objective educator information. Objective 

data also may be ga<strong>the</strong>red on <strong>the</strong> impact of 

collaboration on <strong>the</strong> professionals in <strong>the</strong> 

schools. Potential types of data include: 

● educator burnout/retention rates 


● rate of transfer requests 

● number of educators interested in collaboration 

(e.g., how many sign up and attend 

training sessions or volunteer to participate) 

● number of workshops, staff development 

seminars, and graduate courses educators 

pursue and complete 

● number of referrals for special education 

made by educators 

● number of students continuing to be removed 

from <strong>the</strong> general classroom for <strong>the</strong> 

provision of support services 

Each school will have specific educatorbased 

objective data that can provide effective 

indicators of <strong>the</strong> effects of collaboration on its 

professional staff. 

Subjective educator information. Subjective 

information ga<strong>the</strong>red from educators can provide 

valuable information on effects of collaboration 

on participants. Specific questions to 

be used in <strong>the</strong> scale might be based on those 

factors that led to <strong>the</strong> decision to implement 

collaboration in <strong>the</strong> first place. A Likert-type 

scale for <strong>the</strong>se respondents might include 

such subjective items as: 

● “I enjoy collaboration more than I enjoyed 

working by myself.” 

● “I believe I have lost some degree of professional 

independence since beginning collaboration.” 

● “I now am spending more time in planning 

than I was before I began collaboration.” 

● “Collaboration allows me to make better use 

of my unique teaching and professional 

skills.” 

● “After working in collaboration I now believe 

students with disabilities can succeed 

in general classrooms.” 

● “I feel more stress working under collaboration 

than I did under <strong>the</strong> previous system.” 

Parent and General Public Information 

One of <strong>the</strong> hallmarks of <strong>the</strong> 2000 presidential 

campaign was <strong>the</strong> extraordinarily high profile 

of public education. Seldom has education 

been such a large issue in national elections. 

For better or worse, <strong>the</strong> public schools are 

under great scrutiny by both politicians as well 

as society at large. 

From <strong>the</strong> perspective of many in society, <strong>the</strong> 

educational system must be held more accountable 

to <strong>the</strong> public. The recent growing 

emphasis on high-stakes testing is perhaps <strong>the</strong> 

most dramatic evidence of this development. 

Many would assert that primary emphasis of 

<strong>the</strong> schools should be to graduate an educated 

and literate citizenry. 

It is understandable that educators are being 

asked to be accountable to <strong>the</strong> major 

stakeholders in <strong>the</strong> schools. Significance of 

evaluating <strong>the</strong> impact of collaboration upon 

<strong>the</strong>se individuals should not be overlooked. 

Major stakeholders include: 

● parents of students 

● members of parent–teacher organizations 

● school board members 

● politicians 

● employers 

● o<strong>the</strong>r citizens in <strong>the</strong> community 

As is <strong>the</strong> case with o<strong>the</strong>r sources of information 

on <strong>the</strong> impact of collaboration, both objective 

and subjective parent and general public 

information can be useful. 

Objective parent and general public information. 

Objective data on effects of collaboration on 

<strong>the</strong>se individuals might include information 

such as: 

● attendance at parent–teacher meetings 

● rates of responsiveness to school messages 

sent home 

● attendance rates at IEP meetings 

● voting patterns of school board members 

and politicians 

Subjective parent and general public information. 

Subjective data on perceptions of <strong>the</strong> 

impact of collaboration can be ga<strong>the</strong>red 

through Likert-type scales completed by <strong>the</strong>se 

individuals. For example, after parents have 

ga<strong>the</strong>red some experience with implementation 

of collaboration in <strong>the</strong>ir children’s 

school, a survey of parents could include such 

items as: 

● “Students with special needs are not likely to 

have <strong>the</strong>ir needs best met in <strong>the</strong> general 

classroom, even when a support services 

provider is <strong>the</strong>re.” 


● “My child is best educated in a classroom 

characterized by diversity.” 

● “Collaboration may be effective for less able 

students but is not as good for <strong>the</strong> more 

able students.” 

● “I believe that collaboration allows all children 

to receive a better education.” 

Summary and Conclusions 

Any change process, including implementation 

of professional collaboration in schools, 

will proceed most smoothly and with <strong>the</strong> 

greatest success when <strong>the</strong> participants have 

determined beforehand (a) <strong>the</strong> desired outcomes, 

and (b) how those outcomes will be 

measured. Change agents implementing collaborative 

programs must begin by identifying 

those individuals to whom <strong>the</strong>y will be providing 

evaluative information about collaboration, 

and determining what it is <strong>the</strong>y need to 

know. 

Next, individuals evaluating collaboration 

should decide what dimensions are to be evaluated: 

<strong>the</strong> processes involved in collaboration, 

<strong>the</strong> outcomes of collaboration, or both. The 

evaluation of ei<strong>the</strong>r dimension may use objective 

or subjective data, generating four different 

types of data. The final stage in planning 

for collaboration evaluation is identification 

of possible sources of information. Four possibilities 

include students, <strong>the</strong> overall educational 

system, professional educators, and parents 

and o<strong>the</strong>r outside parties. 

In order to effectively interpret data <strong>the</strong>re 

must be at least two sets of data to provide 

some point of comparison. Thus evaluations 

of collaboration might be conducted at least 

twice. This would include one prior to <strong>the</strong> 

implementation of collaboration, and a second 

at some point after implementation. Additional 

subsequent and ongoing evaluations 

will provide an even better picture of how 

impact of <strong>the</strong> collaborative program is evolving 

over time. 

Evaluation work to ascertain impact of collaboration 

on schools will be even more effective 

if used on an ongoing and proactive basis 

to shape and determine future efforts. School 

professionals who evaluate <strong>the</strong>ir collaborative 

work consistently and comprehensively will be 

best positioned to respond to mounting calls 

for accountability in American education. 

References 


Barr, R. D., & Parrett, W. H. (2001). Hope fulfilled for 

at-risk and violent youth: K-12 programs that work. 

Boston: Allyn & Bacon. 

Elmore, R. F., Peterson, P. L., & McCar<strong>the</strong>y, S. J. 

(1996). Restructuring <strong>the</strong> classroom: Teaching, learning, 

and school organization. San Francisco: Jossey- 

Bass. 

Hourcade, J. J., & Bauwens, J. (2003). Cooperative 

teaching: Rebuilding and sharing <strong>the</strong> schoolhouse (2nd 

ed.). Austin, TX: Pro-Ed. 

McLaughlin, J. A., & McLaughlin, V. L. (1993). 

Program evaluation. In B. Billingsley (Ed.), Program 

leadership for serving students with disabilities 

(pp. 343–370). Richmond, VA: Virginia Department 

of Education. 

Newman, F. M., & Wehlage, G. G. (1995). Successful 

school restructuring. Madison, WI: Wisconsin Center 

for Educational Research. 

Pugach, M. C., & Johnson, L. J. (2002). Collaborative 

practitioners, collaborative schools (2 nd ed.). Denver, 

CO: Love.

Enhancing Appropriate Social Behaviors for Children with 

Autism in General Education Classrooms: 

An Analysis of Six Cases 

Nancy Kueifen Yang 

Austin, Texas 

Tzu-Ai Huang 

Min Tsu Elementary School 

Kaohsiung, Taiwan 

James L. Schaller 

The University of Texas at Austin 

Meei Huey Wang and Shu-Fei Tsai 

Poai Elementary School 

Kaohsiung, Taiwan 

Abstract: This study compares generalized effects of a social-emotional skills training for girls and boys with 

autism in resource rooms on promoting positive social behaviors in general education classrooms in Taiwan. 

A single subject design was used to compare outcomes for 2 girls and 2 boys with autism in <strong>the</strong> experimental 

group with 2 boys with autism in <strong>the</strong> control group. Results of regression analyses revealed that all 4 

participants in <strong>the</strong> experimental group significantly increased frequencies of positive social behaviors over time, 

while <strong>the</strong> two control participants did not demonstrate trends in <strong>the</strong> data. After adjusting for trends, <strong>the</strong> 

training had a medium effect size for 2 participants and a small effect size for 2 participants in <strong>the</strong> experimental 

group. This training was developed in response to educational services in Taiwan; suggestions are provided for 

development of interventions for children with autism that fit within general education classrooms. 

It is well known that many persons with autism 

have social and emotional difficulties (Hauck, 

Fein, Waterhouse, & Feinstein, 1995; Hobson, 

1986; Hobson & Lee, 1998; Kanner, 1943). 

Research has demonstrated that individuals 

with autism display significant deficits in social 

skills (Hobson & Lee, 1998; Njardvik, Matson, 

& Cherry, 1999), judgments of social appropriateness 

(Loveland, Pearson, Tunali-Kotoski, 

Ortegon, & Gibbs, 2001), imitation (Hobson 

& Lee, 1999; Stone, Ousley, & Littleford, 

1997), joint attention (Charman, Swettenham, 

Baron-Cohen, Cox, Baird, & Drew, 

1997), and social initiation with peers (Hauck 

et al.). In addition, research has demonstrated 

that individuals with autism may display 

marked impairment of emotion including understanding 

facial expression (Braverman, 

Fein, Lucci, & Waterhouse, 1989; Celani, Battacchi, 

& Arcidiacono, 1999; Hobson, 1986; 


be addressed to James L. Schaller, Department of 

Special Education, The University of Texas at Austin, 

Austin, TX 78712-1290. 



Klin, Sparrow, de Bildt, Cicchetti, Cohen, & 

Volkmar, 1999), cause of affect (Jaedicke, Storoschuk, 

& Lord, 1994), empathy (Dyck, Ferguson, 

& Shochet, 2001; Yirmiya, Sigman, 

Kasari, & Mundy, 1992; Yirmiya, Sigman, & 

Zacks, 1994), affect processing capacities 

(Greenspan, 2001), and inappropriate affect 

(McGee, Feldman, & Chernin, 1991; Snow, 

Hertzig, & Shapiro, 1987). 

In regard to social skills, a variety of interventions 

have been implemented over <strong>the</strong> 

past 20 years to remediate social deficits for 

individuals with autism (Krantz & McClannahan, 

1998; Mesibov, 1984; Williams, 1989). 

For example, Mesibov taught 15 adolescents 

and adults with autism social skills including 

group discussion, listening and talking, roleplaying, 

and appreciation of humor. Feedback 

from participants and <strong>the</strong>ir families demonstrated 

that participants improved <strong>the</strong>ir conversational 

skills, selection of relevant topics, 

and perceptions of <strong>the</strong>mselves. Williams implemented 

a social skills training for adolescents 

with autism that included cooperative 

games, asking for help, and holding a conversion 

with results indicating an overall improve- 

Enhancing Appropriate Social Behaviors / 405

ment in peer relationships for participants. In 

ano<strong>the</strong>r study on social skill training (Cheek, 

Logan, Sprecher, & Streitmatter, 1997) that 

included listening, cooperative learning, and 

monitoring inappropriate behaviors, findings 

demonstrated that participants improved on 

social skills and academic performance with 

listening skill behaviors increasing notably. 

These authors suggested that listening was <strong>the</strong> 

most beneficial social skill taught in this program 

for <strong>the</strong>se students. In ano<strong>the</strong>r approach 

to social skill instruction, Krantz and McClannahan 

used a script-fading procedure involving 

adult language models to increase participants’ 

social exchanges. 

In addition to a variety of approaches to 

social skills training, research has also examined 

effectiveness of adult mediated and peermediated 

training in social skills (Goldstein, 

Kaczmarek, Pennington, & Shafer, 1992; Mc- 

Gee, Almeida, Sulzer-Azaroff, & Feldman, 

1992; Roeyers, 1996; Weiss & Harris, 2001). 

Limitations to adult-mediated approaches 

have included <strong>the</strong> possible intrusiveness of 

interactions, alteration of <strong>the</strong> nature of interactions; 

and, if used in isolation, encouragement 

of dependence of children with autism 

on adults (Weiss & Harris). As a result, Weiss 

and Harris suggested that intervention research 

has shifted in focus to more peer-mediated 

interventions. 

Research has also examined impairment of 

emotion for individuals with autism (Braverman 

et al., 1989; Celani et al., 1999; Hobson, 

1986; Klin et al., 1999), including flat/neutral 

emotion (Yirmiya, Kasari, Sigman, & Mundy, 

1989). Children with autism also perform less 

well than children without disabilities on perspective-taking 

and empathy-related tasks 

(Bauminger, 2002; Dyck et al., 2001; Gena, 

Krantz, McClannahan, & Poulson, 1996; 

Yirmiya et al., 1992, 1994). And, while research 

has demonstrated that individuals with 

autism respond to training on contextually 

appropriate affective behaviors such as talking 

about favorite things and showing sympathy 

(Gena et al.), when children with autism demonstrate 

positive affect, it is less likely to convey 

communicative intent and be partner-related 

in comparison to normally developing 

peers (Dawson, Hill, Spencer, Galpert, & 

Watson, 1990; Jaedicke et al., 1994; McGee et 

al., 1991; Snow et al., 1987). 


Recently, interventions on emotion have focused 

on enhancement of emotional competence 

via teaching “<strong>the</strong>ory of mind” (e.g., 

Hadwin, Baron-Cohen, Howlin, & Hill, 1996; 

Howlin, Baron-Cohen, & Hadwin, 1999; Ozonoff 

& Miller, 1995). For example, Hadwin et 

al. provided training on <strong>the</strong>ory of mind tasks 

to thirty children with autism that included 

facial recognition of emotion; as well as situation-based, 

desires-based, and belief-based 

emotions. Results demonstrated that children 

with autism could be taught to pass tasks that 

assess emotion and belief understanding. 

However, teaching effects did not generalize 

to untaught domains of tasks and no significant 

progress in spontaneous pretend play 

from teaching was found. The authors suggested 

that children with autism might be 

passing tasks using rules ra<strong>the</strong>r than a genuine 

understanding of emotions, belief, and pretence. 

Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, research has studied associated 

factors with peer social interaction, and a 

number of social and emotional factors such 

as joint attention (Charman, 2003; Whalen, 

2001), imitation (Charman; Field, Field, Sanders, 

& Nadel, 2001; Stone et al., 1997), and 

affect comprehension (Braverman et al., 

1989) have been found to be related to social 

interaction. For example, Charman found 

that joint attention ability skills (<strong>the</strong> coordination 

or sharing of attention between <strong>the</strong> child, 

ano<strong>the</strong>r person, and an object or event in a 

social context) were positively associated with 

language gains and social and communication 

symptoms. Whalen taught four children with 

autism joint attention including responding 

to <strong>the</strong> showing, pointing, and gaze shifting of 

adult, coordinated gaze shifting, and pointing 

(with <strong>the</strong> purpose of sharing). She found that 

joint attention behaviors could be trained in 

children with autism; and that participants 

demonstrated collateral changes in social initiations, 

positive affect, empathic response, 

imitation, and language. 

In addition to attention and imitation skills, 

research has also revealed an association between 

affect skills and social behaviors. Braverman 

et al. (1989) found that children with 

pervasive developmental disorders (PDD) 

were impaired on face and affect matching in 

comparison with normal controls. In addition, 

face and affect matching were significantly

elated to mental age, as well as social behavior 

and play. Travis, Sigman, and Ruskin 

(2001) investigated <strong>the</strong> relationships between 

social understanding (false belief understanding, 

affective perspective taking) and social 

responsiveness (empathy, concern to distress, 

and initiating joint attention) with social interaction 

including level of engagement with 

peers on <strong>the</strong> playground and prosocial behavior 

in a structured laboratory task. They found 

that initiating joint attention and empathy 

were significantly related to two social interaction 

behaviors for children with autism. 

In summary, although research has revealed 

positive results for increasing social 

and emotional abilities for individuals with 

autism, generalization of social and emotional 

abilities to natural settings has been an issue 

with children with autism failing to transfer 

and implement <strong>the</strong>ir learned skills to o<strong>the</strong>r 

domains or settings that were not directly 

taught (e.g., Hadwin et al., 1996; Ozonoff & 

Miller, 1995). Therefore, <strong>the</strong> social-emotional 

skills intervention of <strong>the</strong> present study was 

designed and implemented to address several 

issues. The curriculum was specifically designed 

for use within an existing public school 

service delivery system for students with autism 

in Taiwan. This curriculum used small 

group instruction and addressed functional 

social and emotional classroom behaviors 

within a Taiwanese cultural framework 

(Stevenson & Stigler, 1992). Several important 

skills were taught in this intervention including 

attention skills, imitation and following 

instruction, greeting skills, emotional 

recognition, and emotional expression. The 

purpose of this study was to compare generalized 

effects of a social-emotional skills training 

for girls and boys with autism in public school 

resource rooms on promoting positive social 

behaviors in general education classrooms in 

Taiwan. 

Method 

Participants 

Participants were two girls and four boys from 

six public elementary schools in a large, urban 

city in south Taiwan who had been clinically 

diagnosed as having autistic disorders since 

early childhood. They attended both home 

school, general-education classrooms for most 

of <strong>the</strong>ir education, as well as a resource room 

for students with autism part-time (4-6 hours 

per week). The resource rooms were located 

in four public elementary schools and were 

not home schools for <strong>the</strong>se students. These 

students were matched by <strong>the</strong>ir gender, verbal 

ability, nonverbal ability, severity of autistic 

symptoms, and age. There were two trials of 

participants. The first trial, Jane, Jack, and 

John, have autism and mental retardation. 

They understood simple commands but had 

very limited expressive language using only 

two word phrases (Subject Verb or Verb 

Object). The second trial, Debbie, David, and 

Dan were high functioning children with autism 

(a verbal IQ above 70). They were verbal 

and could answer simple questions in complex 

sentences. Due to very few girls with autism 

(only n 4) in this city both were placed 

in <strong>the</strong> elementary regular classroom and <strong>the</strong> 

resource room, and <strong>the</strong>re are no comparison 

participants for <strong>the</strong> girls with autism. 

Students’ age ranges from 7 years 9 months 

to 9 years 9 months. Since Jane, Jack, and John 

were not testable using <strong>the</strong> Wechsler Intelligence 

Scale for Children-3rd edition, <strong>the</strong> Test 

of Nonverbal Intelligence-2 (TONI-2) and <strong>the</strong> 

Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test-Revised 

(PPVT-R) were used to estimate participants’ 

nonverbal and verbal abilities. The nonverbal 

IQ on TONI-2 ranged from 68 to 105. The 

verbal ability on <strong>the</strong> PPVT ranged from 55 

to 95 (see Table 1). The lowest score obtainable 

on <strong>the</strong> PPVT in Taiwan is a standardized 

norm of 55. Edelson, Edelson, and Jung 

(1998) reported that <strong>the</strong> mean score of individuals 

with autism for TONI-2 in Taiwan 

(M 90.10, SD 19.14) is similar to <strong>the</strong> US 

sample (M 88.99, SD 21.13) and <strong>the</strong> 

mean score for individuals with mental retardation 

is 66 in <strong>the</strong> US sample (Brown, Sherbenou, 

& Johnsen, 1990). 

Instrument 

The Behavior Record Form (BRF) was developed 

to document students’ daily progress in 

regular classrooms. This form described five 

positive social behaviors: 

1. Student plays with classmates during <strong>the</strong> 

breaks today. 

2. Student agrees to join in a game or an 


TABLE 1 

Characteristics of Participants 

Name Group Age (y/m) PPVT-R TONI-2 

Jane Experiment 9/9 55 74 

Jack Experiment 9/9 55 77 

John Control 9/4 55 68 

Debbie Experiment 8/1 70 88 

David Experiment 7/9 95 104 

Dan Control 8/6 78 105 

Note. PPVT Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test- 

Revised; TONI-2 Test of Nonverbal Intelligence-2. 

In Taiwan, <strong>the</strong> lowest score obtainable on <strong>the</strong> 

PPVT is a standardized norm of 55. Mean score of 

individuals with autism for TONI-2 is 90.1 (SD 

19.14) (Edelson et al., 1998). 

activity when classmates ask him to do so 

today. 

3. Student shares goods with classmates or 

accepts classmates to join in his/her activity 

today. 

4. Student initiates to play with classmates 

today. 

5. Student follows <strong>the</strong> rules of games today. 

Event recording was used for this form (Alberto 

& Troutman, 2002). A pilot study for 

reliability of BRF was conducted with 15 boys 

and three girls with autism ranging in age 

from 6 years 6 months to 9 years 9 months, 

rated by <strong>the</strong>ir regular homeroom teachers. 

Alpha coefficients were .91 with test-retest reliabilities 

for two days at .90 and two-week 

interval .80. Interrater reliability was collected 

by sampling over 30 days and having two raters 

rate <strong>the</strong> same student simultaneously resulting 

in a correlation coefficient for <strong>the</strong> total scale 

of .775 (p .000). 

Procedure 

Homeroom teachers of participants were 

asked to record students’ behavior on <strong>the</strong> BRF 

from Monday to Friday when students with 

autism attend regular classrooms. Identical instructions 

were given to all teachers in administering 

<strong>the</strong> BRF. While homeroom teachers 

were aware that a program was in effect in <strong>the</strong> 

resource rooms of <strong>the</strong> students, teachers were 

unaware of when <strong>the</strong> intervention was implemented 

as well as students’ placement in ei<strong>the</strong>r 

<strong>the</strong> treatment or control group. 

Social-emotional skills training was conducted 

in two resource rooms in two separate 

schools for 80 minutes per week for 13 weeks. 

Three to four students with autism were 

taught toge<strong>the</strong>r. Some children with autism in 

<strong>the</strong> intervention group did not participate in 

this study due to disagreement by <strong>the</strong>ir parents. 

For <strong>the</strong> control group, a general remedial 

education curriculum was maintained. 

The teaching method used in resource rooms 

for children with autism in this city was primarily 

individualized instruction. Small group 

instruction was used only for training sessions 

for <strong>the</strong> experimental group. Both groups of 

students had equal opportunity to interact 

with students without disabilities in general 

education classes throughout <strong>the</strong> week. All 

students in Taiwan typically attend school five 

days a week and alternate spending four hours 

Saturday morning in social/sports/artistic activities 

every o<strong>the</strong>r week. 

Design 

An AB single subject design was used to assess 

relative effectiveness of intervention. The first 

week of <strong>the</strong> semester consisted of baseline (5 

data points). In baseline, a regular remedial 

education curriculum was implemented in resource 

rooms for both <strong>the</strong> experimental 

group and <strong>the</strong> control group. After baseline, 

training sessions were conducted in two resource 

rooms in two separate schools for 80 

minutes per week for a total of 13 weeks (61 

data points). For <strong>the</strong> control group, a regular 

remedial education curriculum was maintained. 

Both groups of students had equal 

opportunity to interact with students without 

disabilities in regular education classes 

throughout <strong>the</strong> week. 

Intervention 


Social-emotional skills curriculum. The socialemotional 

curriculum was developed by Yang, 

Huang, and Wang (2003) to teach children 

with autism social and affect skills. The overall 

purpose of this curriculum was to assist children 

with autism to integrate into general 

education classrooms and focused on helping

children with autism to reducing <strong>the</strong> discrepancies 

between <strong>the</strong>ir social-emotional level 

and intellectual level. The curriculum includes 

12 units: (1) paying attention, (2) imitation 

and following instructions, (3) knowing 

one’s own and ano<strong>the</strong>r student’s name, (4) 

recognition of one’s own and ano<strong>the</strong>r’s belongings, 

(5) knowing one’s own and ano<strong>the</strong>r’s 

gender, (6) expressing one’s preferences, (7) 

introducing one’s self to o<strong>the</strong>rs, (8) recognizing 

happy and unhappy faces, (9) recognizing 

one’s own and ano<strong>the</strong>r’s feelings of happiness 

and sadness, (10) recognizing one’s own and 

ano<strong>the</strong>r’s feelings of fear, (11) recognizing 

one’s own and ano<strong>the</strong>r’s feelings of anger, 

and (12) tolerating frustration. 

Six units (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7) were on social 

skills, four units (8, 9, 10, 11) addressed affective 

skills, and two units (6, 12) addressed 

both social and affect skills with each unit 

building on <strong>the</strong> previous unit. In addition, 

each unit had several objectives with objectives 

arranged from simple to more difficult. 

For social skills, for instance, unit seven “introducing 

one’s self to o<strong>the</strong>rs” addressed ten 

objectives: (a) when asked student can answer 

with his name, (b) student can respond with 

ano<strong>the</strong>r student’s name after hearing that student’s 

introduction, (c) with a teacher prompt 

student can introduce his/her name, age, 

school, and grade in a group, (d) student can 

ask ano<strong>the</strong>r student’s name with teacher 

prompt, (e) student can ask an o<strong>the</strong>r student’s 

information such as name, age, school, 

and grade with teacher prompt, (f) student 

can tell his/her own interests to ano<strong>the</strong>r student 

with teacher prompt, (g) student can 

respond with an o<strong>the</strong>r student’s interests with 

teacher prompt, (h) student can introduce 

himself/herself in a group and include three 

personal attributes (including basic information 

and interests) without teacher prompt, 

(i) student can introduce himself/herself in a 

group and include four attributes without 

teacher prompt, and (j) student can remember 

and respond with an o<strong>the</strong>r student’s information 

such name and attributes after 

hearing an o<strong>the</strong>r student’s introduction without 

teacher prompt. 

For affective skills, for example, unit eight 

“recognizing happy and unhappy faces” consisted 

of six objectives. The first objective was 

to recognize simple line drawings of happy or 

unhappy faces (e.g., and ). The second 

objective asked students to recognize happiness 

and unhappiness from complex line 

drawings of people. Next, students were asked 

to sort pictures of happiness and unhappiness. 

The fourth objective asked students to match 

emotions from videotapes to pictures of emotion 

exhibited on student’s work sheet. A popular 

cartoon in Taiwan was used for this activity. 

For <strong>the</strong> fifth objective <strong>the</strong> teacher modeled 

happy and unhappy faces, gestures, and voices 

for students to simulate. The final objective 

was for students to identify if a teacher’s or 

classmate’s faces were happy or unhappy. 

Selection of curricular activities was age-appropriate, 

functional, and socially valid for 

Taiwan. For example, curricular activities 

common in Taiwanese schools include a focus 

on group instruction and teacher-led activities, 

and working and attending as a class in 

general education classrooms (Stevenson & 

Stigler, 1992). Therefore, <strong>the</strong> curriculum was 

developed to use small group instruction of 

children with autism in resource rooms to 

assist in developing attending behaviors, social 

skills, and affect skills for facilitating working 

as a class in general education classrooms. For 

example, <strong>the</strong>re are 12 activities in Unit 7 “introducing 

one’s self to o<strong>the</strong>rs.” The first activity 

was for <strong>the</strong> teacher to ask each student 

questions related to background information 

such as name, age, grade, school, etc. Students 

were asked to practice <strong>the</strong> whole sentence not 

just single words. For <strong>the</strong> second activity, <strong>the</strong> 

teacher wrote sentences with blank spaces on 

<strong>the</strong> black board and asked students to copy 

<strong>the</strong> sentences onto <strong>the</strong>ir work sheet. Questions 

could be changed based on students’ 

ability. Students were asked to fill in <strong>the</strong> blank 

space. After filling in <strong>the</strong> blanks, students said 

<strong>the</strong>ir answers in <strong>the</strong> group. The work sheet 

served as a visual prompt for students. Then, 

students practiced fading <strong>the</strong> work sheet as a 

prompt. 

Training procedures. The training used small 

group instruction (3 to 4 students). Teaching 

techniques included direct instruction, modeling, 

role-play, visual cues, rehearsal, and reinforcement 

procedures. Curricular objectives 

of each unit served as checklists for resource 

room teachers to determine individual student 

baseline performance prior to implementing 

<strong>the</strong> curriculum. Although objectives 


of <strong>the</strong> social-emotional skills curriculum also 

included objectives of individualized instruction 

for lower functioning children with autism, 

<strong>the</strong> training started from objectives of 

group instruction (i.e., Unit One objective (f) 

<strong>the</strong> student while in a group can look at <strong>the</strong> 

teacher when she/he said “look [attention 

please]”). Teachers followed <strong>the</strong> 12 units of 

<strong>the</strong> curriculum in a spiral sequence (Poplin, 

1988) moving from lower objectives of lower 

units to lower objectives of more advanced 

units, <strong>the</strong>n to higher objectives of lower units, 

and finally higher objectives of advanced 

units. 

Data Analyses 

Kazdin (1982) has suggested use of statistical 

analyses for single-case research when <strong>the</strong>re 

are unstable baselines and large variability of 

behaviors in open field settings. Statistical 

analyses including regression and effect sizes 

suggested by Kromrey and Foster-Johnson 

(1996) were employed for <strong>the</strong> analyses of data 

using SAS. First, two regression models including 

single regression line (y b 0 b 1T e) 

and parallel regression lines (y b’ 0 b’ 1T 

b’ 2X e) were conducted separately to determine 

<strong>the</strong> extent to which regression lines 

TABLE 2 

could fit <strong>the</strong> data points on positive social 

behaviors. 

In addition, effect size for each participant 

was calculated. Kromrey and Foster-Johnson 

(1996) suggest that <strong>the</strong> d index is useful for 

single-subject data when <strong>the</strong> data do not show 

trends. When <strong>the</strong> data evidence a trend, <strong>the</strong> 

index f 2 for change in level was recommended. 

The effect size for change in level 

(f 2 ) was obtained from <strong>the</strong> difference between 

<strong>the</strong> R 2 of equations of single regression line 

and parallel regression lines, that is, f 2 (R 2 

2 

R 2 

1) /(1 R 2 

2) (Center, Skiba, & Casey, 

1985/86; Kromrey & Foster-Johnson). For effect 

size index f 2 for changes in level, Cohen 

(1988) and Kromrey and Foster-Johnson have 

suggested that <strong>the</strong> values of .02, .15, .35 represent 

small, medium, and large effects, respectively. 

Results 

Mean Scores by Week on Positive Social Behavior for Participants 

Week 

Table 2 delineates a mean score for each week 

(total 14 weeks) for participants on positive 

social behavior. Figures 1 and 2 provide a 

graphic display of data for autism group (Jane, 

Jack, and John) and high-functioning autism 

group (Debbie, David, and Dan). The coefficients 

of determination (R 2 ) are used to de- 

Jane Jack John Debbie David Dan 

n M n M n M n M n M n M 

1 5 7.60 5 .40 5 4.80 5 15.40 5 9.00 5 8.40 

2 5 9.00 5 .00 4 5.50 5 9.80 2 4.00 5 6.00 

3 5 12.20 5 .00 4 6.50 5 14.80 5 6.80 5 3.20 

4 5 14.00 5 .00 5 5.40 5 16.00 4 2.75 5 5.20 

5 5 13.20 5 1.00 4 5.25 5 14.00 3 4.00 5 8.20 

6 1 11.00 1 1.00 — — 1 10.00 1 3.00 1 12.00 

7 4 12.00 5 1.00 4 4.25 4 14.00 5 5.60 5 5.80 

8 4 12.00 5 .80 4 2.75 4 13.50 4 8.75 3 9.67 

9 5 12.20 5 .80 4 5.00 5 14.20 5 9.60 1 12.00 

10 5 15.40 5 .60 4 3.00 5 16.40 5 10.40 5 9.00 

11 5 15.80 5 1.00 5 8.00 5 15.60 5 11.40 5 6.20 

12 5 16.20 5 .40 5 3.80 5 14.40 5 10.60 5 4.40 

13 5 15.40 5 2.20 4 5.25 5 15.80 5 12.40 5 7.00 

14 4 16.00 5 1.00 5 9.40 5 17.00 5 10.20 — — 

Note. n number of days. Week 1 was baseline phase and weeks 2 to 14 were <strong>the</strong> intervention phase. 


Figure 1. Frequency of positive social behavior for experimental participants with autism Jane, Jack, and John. 


Figure 2. Frequency of positive social behavior for experimental high-functioning participants with autism 

Debbie, David, and Dan. 


termine <strong>the</strong> extent to which regression lines 

could fit <strong>the</strong> data. Results reveal that all participants 

in <strong>the</strong> experimental group, Jane, 

Jack, Debbie, and David, statistically significantly 

increased <strong>the</strong>ir frequencies of positive 

social behavior over time using single regression 

lines (see Table 3) or parallel regression 

lines (Table 4) to fit <strong>the</strong> data points. The 

coefficients of determination (R 2 ) suggest 

that <strong>the</strong> parallel regression model fit <strong>the</strong> data 

better than <strong>the</strong> single regression model. Participants 

obtained higher R 2 values for <strong>the</strong> 

parallel regression lines, with R 2 values of 

.662, .227, .191, and .450 for <strong>the</strong> experimental 

group, Jane, Jack, Debbie, and David, respectively. 

In contrast, two control participants, 

John and Dan, did not show obvious trends 

for <strong>the</strong> data using two regression models for 

simulation, with R 2 values for <strong>the</strong> parallel regression 

model of .013 and .041 for John and 

Dan, respectively. 

For effect sizes, <strong>the</strong> index f 2 associated with 

<strong>the</strong> change in level after adjusting for trend 

were .16, .02, .09, and .21 for <strong>the</strong> experimental 

group, Jane, Jack, Debbie, and David, respectively. 

For <strong>the</strong> control group, <strong>the</strong> effect sizes 

were .01 for John and .04 for Dan. Results 

reveal that after adjusting for <strong>the</strong> trend, <strong>the</strong> 

intervention had a medium effect size for Jane 

and David and a small effect size for Jack and 

Debbie. For <strong>the</strong> control group, John and 

Dan’s changes were not statistically significant 

on increasing positive social behavior. 


Results demonstrate that all four participants 

in <strong>the</strong> experimental group significantly in- 

TABLE 3 

Results of Regression Analysis for Single Regression Line Fit to All Data Points 

Name F p R 1 2 

creased frequencies of positive social behaviors 

over time, while <strong>the</strong> two control participants 

did not demonstrate trends in <strong>the</strong> data. 

After adjusting for trends, <strong>the</strong> training had a 

medium effect size for Jane and David and a 

small effect size for Jack and Debbie. 

These findings suggest that social and emotional 

skills can be taught to children with 

autism and that outcomes in more positive 

behaviors can be generalized to general education 

settings. There are a number of factors 

in comparing results from this study with 

o<strong>the</strong>r research. For example, while adult-mediated 

approaches to training of social skills 

have been noted for <strong>the</strong>ir limitations (Weiss & 

Harris, 2001), use of adults as mediators in 

this study appears to support findings from 

o<strong>the</strong>r research in which adult-mediated training 

was effective (e.g., Haring & Lovinger, 

1989; Mesibov, 1984; Odom & Strain, 1986; 

Williams, 1989). A possible explanation for 

this is <strong>the</strong> similarity of settings. In this study, 

participants were taught in resource rooms 

and assessed in general education settings, 

and <strong>the</strong>re were similar contexts between <strong>the</strong>se 

two settings in Taiwan. Both resource rooms 

and general education classrooms were located 

in public schools (as opposed to training 

located in a clinic-based setting) and included 

teacher directed group instruction. 

This may have increased stimulus similarity for 

participants. Handleman and Harris (1983) 

also noted that children with autism generalized 

more responses when taught in multiple 

classrooms, and that stimulus similarity of instructional 

settings may have accounted for 

<strong>the</strong> rates of generalization in <strong>the</strong>ir study. 

Ano<strong>the</strong>r factor is <strong>the</strong> intervention in this 

Jane (Exp.) 93.383 .000 .609 9.328 .118 

Jack (Exp.) 17.438 .000 .214 .071 .020 

John (Cont.) .607 .440 .013 4.889 .014 

Debbie (Exp.) 8.299 .005 .118 13.069 .048 

David (Exp.) 27.002 .000 .333 4.392 .115 

Dan (Cont.) 0.063 .802 .001 6.544 .006 

Note. y b 0 b 1T e. 

Enhancing Appropriate Social Behaviors / 413 

b 0 

b 1

TABLE 4 

Results of Regression Analysis for Parallel Regression Lines Fit to Data Points 

Name F p R 2 2 

study incorporated affect skills such as emotional 

recognition and emotional expression 

that may have assisted participant’s understanding 

of <strong>the</strong>ir and o<strong>the</strong>r’s feelings and may 

have motivated <strong>the</strong>m to join or initiate an 

interaction with peers in general education 

classrooms. This finding was consistent with 

Bauminger’s (2002) study in which she implemented 

a social-emotional intervention with a 

focus on interpersonal problem solving (13 

social initiation skills), affective knowledge 

(sad, happy, afraid, and angry), and social 

interaction with high-functioning children 

with autism. Results indicated that participants 

improved on ability to share experiences 

with peers and to show interest in peers, 

and participant’s ratings on social skills by 

teachers increased. 

Finally, while this study did not incorporate 

an intervention developed along “<strong>the</strong>ory of 

mind” practice (Hadwin et al., 1996; Howlin 

et al., 1999; Ozonoff & Miller, 1995) it did 

incorporate skills related to facial recognition 

of emotion and situation-based emotion. 

While it appears that participants may have 

generalized teaching effects to general education 

classrooms, it is not known if participants 

were using rules ra<strong>the</strong>r than a genuine understanding 

of emotions and belief as Hadwin et 

al. (1996) suggested in <strong>the</strong>ir study. 

Limitations 

This study has several limitations to its interpretations, 

generalizations, and conclusions. 

One limitation is that this was a single subject 

b 0 b 1 b 2 

Jane (Exp.) 57.720 .000 .662 7.400 .100 2.727 

Jack (Exp.) 9.267 .000 .227 .355 .022 .397 

John (Cont.) .305 .738 .013 4.774 .013 .185 

Debbie (Exp.) 7.188 .002 .191 15.264 .068 3.075 

David (Exp.) 21.658 .000 .450 8.368 .153 5.705 

Dan (Cont.) 1.099 .341 .041 8.349 .025 2.600 

Note. a. y b 0 b 1T b 2X e. 

b. For Baseline data, <strong>the</strong> equation is y b 0 b 1T e. 

For Intervention data, <strong>the</strong> equation is y b 0 b 1T b 2 e. 

study and <strong>the</strong> sample size was small. In addition, 

participants were not randomly assigned 

to experimental and control groups, but a 

matched sample was used. Therefore, generalization 

to o<strong>the</strong>r children with autism is limited. 

Ano<strong>the</strong>r limitation is that this study asked 

homeroom teachers to rate participants’ social 

interaction behaviors in general education 

classrooms, and <strong>the</strong>ir perceptions of students’ 

classroom behaviors may be impacted 

by <strong>the</strong>ir personal characteristics. Finally, <strong>the</strong> 

implementation of an intervention combining 

social and affect skills increases <strong>the</strong> difficulty 

in pinpointing specific components directly 

responsible for change in participants. And, 

while <strong>the</strong> finding in this study of participants 

in <strong>the</strong> experimental group improving on social 

behaviors is consistent with Bauminger’s 

(2002) finding, it may be <strong>the</strong> combination of 

all aspects of <strong>the</strong> intervention that caused 

change. 

Considerations for Future Research 


There are several considerations for future 

research. Participants in this study were assessed 

for one semester, and it is important to 

assess whe<strong>the</strong>r improvement of social-emotional 

skills and durability of treatment effects 

would be maintained over an extended follow-up 

period. Future research could also examine 

which social-emotional skills contribute 

to peer social interaction most; and additional 

studies could investigate group approaches to 

social-emotional skills training for children 

with autism. As noted previously, this type of

intervention modality is particularly relevant 

for Taiwanese schools due to <strong>the</strong> nature of 

existing educational service delivery systems in 

that country. Finally, development of more 

naturalistic interventions for children with autism 

that fit within general education classrooms 

should be explored. 

Promotion of social-emotional skill development 

for children with autism is important. 

Although numerous studies exist on socialemotional 

skill development it is critical that 

future research continue to expand and explore 

intervention curriculums and training 

modalities to fur<strong>the</strong>r develop more effective 

and appropriate interventions. 

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Education for all in <strong>the</strong> North and <strong>the</strong> South: Teachers’ 

Attitudes Towards Inclusive Education in Finland and Zambia 

Sakari Moberg 

University of Jyväskylä, Finland 

Abstract: A survey assessed attitudes of 1636 Zambian and Finnish teachers towards inclusive education and 

consequently <strong>the</strong> perceptions of appropriate educational environment for children with different disabilities. On 

<strong>the</strong> whole, attitudes varied but were quite critical. Structure of <strong>the</strong> attitudes was similar in both countries; factor 

analyses extracted four attitude dimensions: 1) social justice, 2) meeting special needs of students with severe 

disabilities, 3) teachers’ competence, and 4) quality of education for non-disabled students. On inclusion in 

general, <strong>the</strong> Finnish ordinary teachers were <strong>the</strong> most critical group and <strong>the</strong> Finnish special education teachers 

<strong>the</strong> most optimistic. Most respondents felt that inclusive education enhances social justice. However, pursuit of 

inclusion in practice, especially <strong>the</strong> guarantee of good and effective education for all, was seen as problematic. 

Compared to Finnish respondents, <strong>the</strong> Zambian respondents preferred a more segregated educational environment 

for children with different disabilities. Type and severity of disability affected <strong>the</strong> preferred educational 

setting and <strong>the</strong>re were clear differences in this regard between respondents from <strong>the</strong> two countries. Findings 

support <strong>the</strong> idea that teachers’ attitudes towards inclusion are important in developing inclusive school systems 

and that inclusive education is best understood as a multi-dimensional concept, which, at <strong>the</strong> practical level, 

is highly context-dependent. 

The debate surrounding integration of students 

with disabilities into general education 

has continued for some 30 years. Today, <strong>the</strong>re 

exists a high-level political consensus on inclusion 

(Education For All, EFA) as a goal, as 

indicated by internationally agreed declarations 

(United Nations, 1994; UNESCO, 1994; 

UNESCO, 2000). In spite of this global political 

consensus, <strong>the</strong> debate continues, not only 

with regard to <strong>the</strong> means in which to attain 

this goal, but also on <strong>the</strong> very concept of inclusion. 

The term inclusion has many uses, 

although recently researchers have begun to 

use <strong>the</strong> term without an explicit definition 

leaving <strong>the</strong> reader to determine meaning of 

<strong>the</strong> word from content of <strong>the</strong> article (Ryndak, 

Jackson, & Billingsley, 2000). 

The conceptual ambiguity of inclusion is 

apparent, both in academic literature, and in 

opinions of practitioners (Vlachou, 1997). 

Dyson (1999) finds many versions of inclusion 


be addressed to Sakari Moberg, Department of Special 

Education, University of Jyväskylä, P.O. Box 35, 

FIN-40351 Jyväskylä, FINLAND. E-mail: moberg@ 

edu.jyu.fi. 



in <strong>the</strong> debate and distinguishes between two 

intersecting dimensions along which different 

discourses can be categorized. The first dimension 

is primarily concerned with <strong>the</strong> rationale 

for inclusion and contains <strong>the</strong> rights and 

ethics discourse and efficacy discourse. The 

rights and ethics discourse stems from sociological 

criticism of special education and posits 

that only inclusive education can deliver 

social justice. Efficacy discourse views inclusive 

education as educationally more effective and 

cost-efficient than segregated education. The 

second dimension can be termed <strong>the</strong> realization 

dimension, along which political and 

pragmatic discourses can be identified. The 

former relates, for example, to <strong>the</strong> vested interests 

inherent in current professional infrastructure 

to resist <strong>the</strong> shift towards inclusive 

education. The latter relates to more practical 

questions concerning how inclusive education 

can be brought about. The major point in 

Dyson’s analyses is that <strong>the</strong>re are multiple versions 

of inclusion used in <strong>the</strong> debate. The 

ethics and rights discourses, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> 

politics discourse, focus more on <strong>the</strong> question 

of social participation. The efficacy and pragmatics 

discourses concentrate on <strong>the</strong> practical 

Education For All / 417

and focus on effectiveness of access to education 

and quality of learning. 

Lunt and Norwich (1999) view that <strong>the</strong> 

complexity of <strong>the</strong> concept of inclusion arises 

partly from contradictions about educational 

values and partly from practical limitations in 

arrangement of educational services. The consequence 

is that inclusive education is based 

on a set of multiple values, which are not fully 

compatible. One typical example is balancing 

emphasizing ones’ right to social participation 

with one’s right to a meaningful learning experience. 

However, many advocates of <strong>the</strong> inclusion 

movement claim that full participation 

and high standards are not necessarily mutually 

exclusive goals; both of <strong>the</strong>m can be 

achieved in inclusive school (e.g., Lipsky & 

Gartner, 1997; Stainback & Stainback, 1996). 

The diverse understanding of inclusion is 

also clear in practitioners’ perception of inclusive 

education. Ryndak et al. (2000) found five 

<strong>the</strong>mes within expert definitions of inclusion 

of which ‘placement in natural typical settings’, 

‘all students toge<strong>the</strong>r for instruction 

and learning’, and ‘supports and modifications 

within general education to meet appropriate 

learner outcomes’ formed <strong>the</strong> core definitions. 

Not only do concepts vary, so do attitudes 

towards inclusive education. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, 

teachers’ attitudes have been found to have a 

serious impact on effectiveness of mainstreaming. 

Some authors claim that teacher attitudes 

are <strong>the</strong> single most important factor in determining 

success or failure of mainstreaming 

(Bunch, Lupart, & Brown, 1997; Rose, 2001). 

Although findings on teachers’ general attitudes 

are somewhat contradictory (Vlachou, 

1997; D’Alonzo, Giordano, & Vanleeuwen, 

1997; Villa, Thousand, Meyers, & Nevin, 

1996), some clear patterns can also be observed. 

First, special education teachers or 

teachers with some special training seem to be 

more positive towards inclusion than regular 

education teachers or teachers who do not 

have any additional training (Avramidis & 

Norwich, 2002; Buell, Hallam, & Gamel-Mc- 

Cormick, 1999; Minke, Bear, Deemer, & Griffin, 

1996; Stoler, 1992). Second, many studies 

show that teachers accept inclusion in principle, 

but are skeptical towards it in practice; 

expressing doubts especially on <strong>the</strong> effectiveness 

of teaching in inclusive settings and on 

<strong>the</strong> ability of regular education teachers to 


meet <strong>the</strong> needs of pupils with disabilities 

(Daane, Beirne-Smith, & Lathman, 2000). 

Scruggs and Mastropieri’s (1996) research 

syn<strong>the</strong>sis convincingly shows that although a 

clear majority of teachers agree with <strong>the</strong> general 

concept of inclusion, far fewer are willing 

to implement it in <strong>the</strong>ir own classes, and less 

than one third believe that <strong>the</strong>y have sufficient 

time, resources, or training to implement inclusion 

successfully. 

A third common pattern in prior studies is 

that general support for and willingness to 

implement inclusion is related to type and 

severity of disability of children in question. 

There is a wide range between individual 

countries: this indicates wide differences of 

teacher attitudes on suitability of students with 

different types of disability for integration in 

normal settings (Bowman, 1986). Teachers 

seem generally to exhibit a more positive attitude 

towards <strong>the</strong> integration of students with 

physical and sensory disabilities than to those 

with emotional-behavioral and intellectual difficulties 

(Avramidis & Norwich, 2002; Chazan, 

1994; Soodak, Podell, & Lehman, 1998). 

Finally, Scruggs and Mastropieri (1996) 

point out that teachers’ attitudes may be 

linked more to practical procedural classroom 

concerns than to affective responses or general 

attitudes towards working with students 

with disabilities. Among <strong>the</strong> practical concerns, 

teachers’ own feelings of self-efficacy as 

professionals and past experiences are highlighted. 

Teachers who feel confident of <strong>the</strong>ir 

professional skills and have positive experiences 

of inclusion are more positive towards 

inclusion (Olson, Chalmers, & Hoover, 1997; 

Scruggs & Mastropieri, 1996; Soodak et al., 

1998). On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, perceived lack of 

self-competence and insufficient training has 

been found to be major stressors of teachers 

in inclusive settings (Engelbrecht, Swart, & 

Eloff, 2001). 

Inclusive education is a universal goal. However, 

its practical conceptualization is still ambiguous, 

attitudes vary, and most of <strong>the</strong> literature 

is not based on empirical research 

(Dykens & Hodapp, 2001). Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, 

what is effective in one country might not be 

applicable to ano<strong>the</strong>r. Booth (1999), for example, 

points out that our ‘Nor<strong>the</strong>rn’ understanding 

of inclusive education might be irrelevant 

to learners in <strong>the</strong> poorer Sou<strong>the</strong>rn 

countries, where exclusion can result from

societal-level problems such as poverty, war, 

HIV/AIDS pandemic. Findings of Kasonde- 

Ng‘andu and Moberg (2001) support this observation 

by indicating that in Zambia, out of 

<strong>the</strong> 32% of school-age children who do not 

attend school, most are excluded because of 

economic reasons, illnesses and long distances. 

Zambia has a segregated system of special 

education that originated in <strong>the</strong> philanthropic 

support received in <strong>the</strong> 1950s and 

which was taken over as a government responsibility 

after independence in <strong>the</strong> 1970s. In 

1995 <strong>the</strong>re were 31 special schools and 80 

special units in <strong>the</strong> country, leaving <strong>the</strong> vast 

majority of disabled children out of school. 

Traditionally special education concentrates 

on educating deaf, blind, mentally retarded 

and physically disabled children for which specialization 

areas teachers have been trained in 

a centrally located institute during <strong>the</strong> last two 

decades. Current policies drawn up in <strong>the</strong> 

1990s support decentralization of special education 

and <strong>the</strong> development of more inclusive 

education (Ministry of Education, 1996, Kasonde-Ng‘andu 

& Moberg, 2001). 

Finland is an industrialized Nor<strong>the</strong>rn country, 

where almost all children (99.7% of <strong>the</strong> 

age group) complete compulsory schooling. 

Finnish students’ outstanding performances 

in reading, ma<strong>the</strong>matical, and scientific literacy 

in <strong>the</strong> international PISA survey (OECD, 

2001) can be seen as a sign of <strong>the</strong> emphasis on 

cognitive outcomes and of efficacy of <strong>the</strong> 

Finnish education system. Providing all students 

with equal educational opportunities 

and removing obstacles to learning especially 

among <strong>the</strong> least successful students have been 

leading principles in Finnish education policy 

since <strong>the</strong> 20th century. In <strong>the</strong> light of PISA 

findings, Finland seems to have managed extraordinary 

well in combining <strong>the</strong>se two principles. 

Although since <strong>the</strong> 1970 an official aim 

has been to mesh special and general education 

into one unified system, still 3.5 % of all 

school age children receive special education 

in segregated settings. However, most students 

with special educational needs are taught 

most of <strong>the</strong> time in regular classrooms. 

More research-based information is required 

concerning how different stakeholders 

perceive inclusive education. Comparison between 

<strong>the</strong> most developed education systems 

in <strong>the</strong> North and on <strong>the</strong> resource-burdened 

developing education systems in <strong>the</strong> South is a 

challenging test for <strong>the</strong> universal applicability 

of <strong>the</strong> idea of inclusive education. This study 

aims to contribute towards this end by bringing 

toge<strong>the</strong>r and comparing views of teachers 

from two countries belonging to such extremes, 

Zambia and Finland. 

Research Questions 

The purpose of this study was to assess teacher 

perceptions surrounding <strong>the</strong> Education For 

All movement in a developing country (Zambia) 

and in a developed country (Finland). 

The goal was to answer <strong>the</strong> following questions: 

What are <strong>the</strong> attitudes towards inclusive 

education? What is <strong>the</strong> structure of <strong>the</strong> attitudes? 

Which educational environments are 

rated best for students with different disabilities? 

What kinds of differences are <strong>the</strong>re between 

Zambia and Finland in this respect? 

What kind of differences are <strong>the</strong>re between 

ordinary teachers’ and special education 

teachers’ attitudes? Is experience of inclusion 

related to attitudes towards inclusive education? 

Method 

Participants 

Participants in <strong>the</strong> present study were 1124 

Zambians (594 head teachers, 514 ordinary 

teachers, 16 special education teachers) and 

512 Finns (206 ordinary teachers, 306 special 

education teachers). In <strong>the</strong> Zambian sample, 

teachers ranged in age from 23 to 63 (median 

category 41-50) and in <strong>the</strong> Finnish sample, 

from 22 to 60 (median 41-50). Of <strong>the</strong> Zambian 

teachers 19 % were female. In <strong>the</strong> Finnish 

sample <strong>the</strong> corresponding percentage was 

82 %. All teacher samples can be considered 

to be representative of teachers concerned in 

Zambia and Finland. 

Procedure 

Information was collected through two questionnaires 

(A and B; see below). In Zambia, 

<strong>the</strong> present study was part of a baseline study 

commissioned by <strong>the</strong> “Education Sector Support 

Programme III” currently being implemented 

by <strong>the</strong> Zambian Ministry of Education 

and supported by <strong>the</strong> Finnish Ministry for For- 


eign Affairs (Kasonde-Ng‘andu & Moberg, 

2001). Zambian data was ga<strong>the</strong>red in <strong>the</strong> 

north western and western provinces during 

spring 2001. Questionnaires were translated 

into <strong>the</strong> respective local languages (Silozi, 

Kiikaonde, Lunda, Luvale) in Zambia and 

Finnish. In Zambia, 18 pairs of research assistants 

collected <strong>the</strong> data. A university (UNZA) 

student and special education teacher or district 

resource center coordinator formed each 

pair. In Finland, questionnaires were administrated 

during ordinary in-service training sessions 

in 1999 - 2001. 

Questionnaire A (19 items on a six-point Likert 

scale designed by Moberg 1997) was used 

to assess participants attitudes towards inclusive 

education. Items represent <strong>the</strong> major features 

of <strong>the</strong> debate over inclusion (Semmel, 

Abernathy, Buteral, & Lesar, 1991; Scruggs & 

Mastropieri, 1996). The scale consists of both 

negatively- (nine items) and positively- (ten 

items) phrased items. Order of <strong>the</strong> items is 

randomly determined. Each item was scored 

from 1 to 6, with <strong>the</strong> highest score referring to 

<strong>the</strong> most positive perception of inclusive education. 

Reliability coefficients (Cronbach alpha) 

of <strong>the</strong> scale were .80 (Zambian sample) 

and .86 (Finnish sample). In <strong>the</strong> Finnish sample, 

two additional questions concerning <strong>the</strong> 

quantity and quality of experience about in- 

TABLE 1 

clusive education were included in <strong>the</strong> questionnaire. 

Questionnaire B consisted of 10 items. Participants 

were asked to choose <strong>the</strong> educational 

environment that would be best for most students 

with different disabilities when trying to 

meet <strong>the</strong>ir special needs. Options were: (1) 

full time in an ordinary classroom, (2) majority 

of time in an ordinary classroom, (3) majority 

of time in a special class, (4) full-time in 

a special class/unit in an ordinary school, (5) 

full-time in a special school, and (6) full-time 

in a special institution. The best environments 

were rated for five disability categories, separating 

moderate and severe disabilities. Reliability 

coefficients (alpha) for <strong>the</strong> total scale 

were .81 in <strong>the</strong> Zambian sample and .91 in <strong>the</strong> 

Finnish sample. 

Results 

Overall Attitudes Towards Inclusive Education 

Attitudes towards inclusive education varied 

greatly and on average, were quite critical. 

There were no statistically significant differences 

between Zambian subgroups (Table 1). 

Consequently, Zambian data will be treated as 

one group in <strong>the</strong> following analyses. Finnish 

ordinary teachers are remarkably more pessi- 

General Perceptions of Inclusive Education in Zambia and Finland by Subgroups. Means (M), Standard 

Deviations (SD) and Differences (F). Higher Scores Mean More Positive Perceptions, <strong>the</strong> Neutral 

Midpoint of <strong>the</strong> Scale is 66.5 

Country/Subgroup M SD n F 

Zambia 

Head teachers 60.3 15.6 594 

Ordinary teachers 60.9 16.5 514 0.64 

Spec. ed. teachers 56.6 16.1 16 

Finland 

Ordinary teachers 52.7 13.4 206 

Spec. ed. teachers 63.4 12.8 306 

81.8*** 

Between-subjects effects 

Country (C) 0.07 

Subgroup (teachers/spec. ed. teachers, SG) 2.71 

C SG 12.99*** 

*** p .001. 


mistic in <strong>the</strong>ir outlook towards inclusive education 

than special education teachers, F(1, 

508) 81.8, p .001. 

Although <strong>the</strong>re was no overall difference 

between <strong>the</strong> perceptions of Finnish and Zambian 

respondents (main effect: F(1, 1630) 

0.07, p ns), <strong>the</strong>re was a difference between 

teacher groups within <strong>the</strong> two countries, interaction 

effect: F(2, 1630) 12.99, p .001 

(Table 1). 

Factor Analysis of <strong>the</strong> Attitudes 

A principal axis factor analysis with oblimin 

rotation of <strong>the</strong> perception scale items was performed 

with <strong>the</strong> data from both countries (Table 

2). Both analyses extracted a four-factor 

solution that explained 51.8 % (Finnish sample) 

and 45.4 % (Zambian sample) of <strong>the</strong> total 

variance. Both analyses resulted in essentially 

similar factor structures, thus facilitating good 

comparability across factors between <strong>the</strong> two 

countries. The four factors were named as 1) 

social justice, 2) meeting special needs of stu- 

TABLE 2 

dents with severe disabilities, 3) teachers’ 

competence and 4) quality of education for 

non-disabled students. 

Item-Wise Attitudes Towards Inclusive Education 

by Factors 

Table 3 shows <strong>the</strong> item contents organized 

according to <strong>the</strong> magnitude of <strong>the</strong>ir loading 

on <strong>the</strong> four factors, comparison of mean 

scores between <strong>the</strong> three subgroups, and percentage 

of respondents having a positive perception 

of inclusion across all items. 

Results show that <strong>the</strong>re is quite a large variance 

in responses and also clear differences 

between <strong>the</strong> three subgroups. The Zambian 

group has <strong>the</strong> most positive attitudes towards 

inclusion in <strong>the</strong> items falling under <strong>the</strong> dimension 

of social justice (factor 1) and as 

many as 63% of this group relate positively to 

<strong>the</strong>se items. This indicates that <strong>the</strong> Zambians 

believe that inclusion means social justice and 

equity more often than <strong>the</strong> Finns. However, 

only few Zambian respondents believe that 

Factor Analysis (Principal Axis Factoring, Oblimin Rotation) of <strong>the</strong> Perceptions of Inclusive Education. 

Comparison of Factor Structure of Finnish (n 512) and Zambian (n 1124) Data, <strong>the</strong> Highest 

Loadings Presented 

Item 

Finland Zambia 

I II III IV I II III IV 

5. .68 .57 

4. .58 .53 

18. .52 .37 

15. .43 .31 

12. .42 .46 

1. .42 .39 

19. .74 .68 

20. .68 .73 

13. .73 .46 

7. .54 .33 

16. .39 .19 .27 

10. .50 .71 

9. .57 .23 .23 

6. .30 .28 .36 

14. .13 .18 .38 

8. .44 .55 

17. .36 .28 .48 

3. .47 .27 

2. .30 .43 

Note. Number of item refers to Table 3. 


TABLE 3 

Perceptions of Inclusive Education in Zambia and Finland. Item- and Factorwise Means (M), Percentages 

(%) of Persons Having Positive Perception of Inclusion, and Differences (F) Between <strong>the</strong> Subgroups (Za 

Zambians, n 1124, Fio Finnish Ordinary Teachers, n 206, Fis Finnish Special Education Teachers, 

n 306). The Scale 1–6, Higher Scores Mean More Positive Perceptions, <strong>the</strong> Neutral Midpoint of <strong>the</strong> 

Scale is 3.5 

Factor/Item 

M Posit. Perc. (%) Difference 

Za Fio Fis Za Fio Fis F 

I Social justice 

5. Full time integration for pupils with 

disabilities in ordinary classes 

means equity for all pupils. 4.6 3.1 4.1 76 36 65 61.0*** 

4. The self-esteem of pupils with 

disabilities would improve if placed 

full time in <strong>the</strong> ordinary classroom. 4.1 3.7 3.8 67 56 63 5.3** 

18. Achievement levels of pupils with 

disabilities would increase if <strong>the</strong>y 

were placed full time in <strong>the</strong> 

ordinary classroom. 3.5 2.9 3.1 53 29 40 13.6*** 

15. Pupils with disabilities would lose 

<strong>the</strong> stigma/label of being “dumb,” 

“different,” or “failures” if <strong>the</strong>y were 

placed full time in <strong>the</strong> ordinary 

classroom. 3.8 3.2 3.6 59 40 50 9.3*** 

12. Placing pupils with disabilities full 

time in regular classes means 

quality education for all. 4.2 3.0 3.6 65 34 51 36.4*** 

1. All pupils will receive appropriate 

educational programmes and 

related services in ordinary 

education. 3.7 2.6 2.9 55 21 29 46.5*** 

Social justice (total) 4.0 3.1 3.5 63 29 47 56.1*** 

II Meeting special needs of students 

with severe disabilities 

19. Because of <strong>the</strong>ir special needs, 

pupils with severe disabilities are 

best taught in special classrooms. 1.6 1.9 2.9 9 9 33 126.9*** 

20. Pupils with severe behaviour 

disorders need special education in 

special schools. 1.9 2.2 3.5 14 16 50 130.1*** 

13. Special classes are needed for 

pupils who display severe forms of 

severe behaviour problem. 2.2 1.6 2.5 20 6 22 20.2*** 

7. Non-disabled children and children 

with severe disabilities should 

taught in separate classrooms. 2.7 2.0 2.8 31 12 28 13.5*** 

16. It is right to ask ordinary class 

teachers to accept pupils with 

severe disabilities into <strong>the</strong>ir classes. 3.2 2.7 3.1 46 28 36 7.8*** 

Meeting special needs of students with 

severe disabilities (total) 2.3 2.1 3.0 15 8 28 56.1*** 


TABLE 3—(Continued) 

Factor/Item 

special needs of students with severe disabilities 

are met in integrated settings (factor 2, 

Table 3). 

Finnish ordinary teachers are <strong>the</strong> least positive 

in <strong>the</strong>ir attitudes towards inclusive education 

and only 8% support <strong>the</strong> idea of placing 

severely disabled students in <strong>the</strong> ordinary 

classrooms. Their most positive perceptions 

relate to items loading on <strong>the</strong> fourth factor, 

M Posit. Perc. (%) Difference 

Za Fio Fis Za Fio Fis F 

III Teachers’ competence 

10. Ordinary class teachers can meet <strong>the</strong> 

academic needs of pupils with 

disabilities currently in <strong>the</strong>ir 

classrooms. 3.5 2.7 2.9 57 24 32 20.9*** 

9. Only teachers with special education 

training are able to teach effectively 

pupils with severe disabilities. 1.9 2.5 2.8 15 25 37 53.6*** 

6. Ordinary education has <strong>the</strong> resources 

and personnel to address <strong>the</strong> 

individual educational needs of all 

children. 3.2 1.6 1.4 46 5 2 172.2*** 

14. Ordinary class teachers have <strong>the</strong> 

primary responsibility for <strong>the</strong> 

education of pupils with disabilities in 

<strong>the</strong>ir classrooms. 4.1 3.7 4.4 69 55 74 10.4*** 

Teachers’ competence (total) 3.2 2.6 2.9 31 14 17 21.7*** 

IV Quality of education for non-disabled 

students 

8. Having pupils with disabilities in 

ordinary education classes will 

interfere with <strong>the</strong> quality of education 

offered to pupils considered as nondisabled. 

3.7 3.7 4.6 54 48 78 34.0*** 

17. Time for teaching of non-disabled is 

taken away when pupils with 

disabilities are placed in ordinary 

classrooms. 3.1 2.5 3.3 39 19 40 16.5*** 

3. Pupils with disabilities are sometimes 

rejected, ridiculated, and/or teased 

by o<strong>the</strong>r pupils in <strong>the</strong> regular 

classroom. 2.1 3.5 3.7 15 44 49 231.0*** 

2. Pupils with mild disabilities would 

experience more academic failure if 

<strong>the</strong>y were placed full time in <strong>the</strong> 

ordinary classroom. 3.6 3.7 4.4 53 58 79 29.9*** 

Quality education for non-disabled 

students (total) 3.1 3.3 4.0 34 35 69 87.3*** 

** p .01, *** p .001. 

quality of education for non-disabled students, 

but even here, only 35% have an overall 

positive attitude (Table 3). 

As a group, Finnish special education teachers 

are <strong>the</strong> most optimistic towards inclusive 

education. Like <strong>the</strong>ir Finnish regular teaching 

colleagues, <strong>the</strong>y have <strong>the</strong> most positive view on 

<strong>the</strong> items on <strong>the</strong> fourth factor with a clear 

majority (69%), having a positive outlook to- 


wards <strong>the</strong>se items. It is interesting that Finnish 

special education teachers are most pessimistic 

towards ordinary teachers’ competence for 

dealing with children with disabilities as indicated 

by 17% of <strong>the</strong> former group holding 

positive perceptions of <strong>the</strong> third factor items 

(Table 3). 

The three groups differ significantly in <strong>the</strong>ir 

perception of each of <strong>the</strong> single items (Table 

3). Most responses to individual items follow 

<strong>the</strong> same pattern as with <strong>the</strong> average scores, 

but a few findings stand out: 

1. Greatest unanimity amongst <strong>the</strong> groups relates 

to <strong>the</strong> issue that self-esteem of pupils 

with disabilities would improve if placed 

full-time in <strong>the</strong> ordinary classroom (item 4) 

2. Finnish special education teachers stand 

out from <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r two groups in <strong>the</strong>ir 

greater belief that students with severe behavior 

disorders (item 20) or severe disabilities 

in general (item 19) do not necessarily 

need to be taught in special schools or 

classrooms 

3. Zambians have much greater faith in <strong>the</strong> 

resources of ordinary education and personnel 

to address <strong>the</strong> individual educational 

needs of all children (item 6) than 

<strong>the</strong> Finnish groups 

TABLE 4 

4. Zambians have a much more negative outlook 

towards <strong>the</strong> idea that pupils with disabilities 

are sometimes rejected and teased 

by o<strong>the</strong>r pupils in <strong>the</strong> regular classroom 

(item 3) 

Perceptions About <strong>the</strong> Most Suitable Educational 

Environment for Students with Different 

Disabilities 

Respondents evaluated <strong>the</strong> best educational 

placement across different disability groups 

and were also asked to differentiate between 

moderate and severe levels of disability. The 

three groups clearly differ: Zambian respondents 

are <strong>the</strong> most segregative and Finnish 

special education teachers <strong>the</strong> least segregative 

groups, F(2, 1630) 498.72, p .001, 

Scheffe p .001. Detailed results are presented 

in Table 4 showing a comparison of 

responses between <strong>the</strong> Zambian group and 

Finnish ordinary teachers and special educational 

teachers. 

Views on <strong>the</strong> best educational placement 

depend on <strong>the</strong> severity of disability (mean 

effect size 1.71), main effect, t 73.38, p 

.001, <strong>the</strong> nationality of <strong>the</strong> respondent (mean 

effect size 1.21), F(1, 1630) 972.43, p 

Best Educational Environments for Students with Different Disabilities Rated by Zambian Educators 

(Za, n 1124), Finnish Ordinary (Fio, n 206) and Special Education Teachers (Fis, n 306). Means, 

Standard Deviations (in Paren<strong>the</strong>ses), and Differences of <strong>the</strong> Groups (F). The Scale 1–6, <strong>the</strong> Higher 

Scores Refer to More Segregated Environment (1 Full Time in Regular Classroom, 6 Full Time 

in Special Institution) 

Student with 

Best Educational Environment Rated by 

Za Fio Fis 

Difference (F) 

moderate physical disability 2.9 (1.8) 1.8 (1.0) 1.2 (0.6) 157.9*** 

severe physical disability 5.2 (1.3) 3.2 (1.3) 2.1 (1.1) 824.8*** 

moderate visual disability 2.8 (1.5) 2.1 (1.1) 1.4 (0.7) 130.0*** 

severe visual disability 4.8 (1.1) 3.5 (1.2) 2.4 (1.3) 562.0*** 

moderate hearing disability 2.7 (1.5) 2.2 (1.1) 1.5 (0.8) 101.6*** 

severe hearing disability 4.7 (1.2) 3.7 (1.1) 2.7 (1.3) 375.5*** 

moderate behavior disorder 2.4 (1.5) 2.8 (1.0) 1.9 (0.8) 28.3*** 

severe behavior disorder 4.3 (1.5) 4.1 (1.0) 3.1 (1.0) 89.0*** 

moderate intellectual disability 3.1 (1.5) 3.1 (1.0) 2.4 (0.9) 38.9*** 

severe intellectual disability 4.9 (1.2) 4.3 (1.0) 3.5 (1.0) 216.1*** 

Total (mean) 3.7 (0.8) 3.0 (0.7) 2.2 (0.6) 498.7*** 

Note. Scheffe test indicated significant differences between all groups. 

*** p .001. 


.001, teacher group among Finnish respondents 

(mean effect size 0.70), F(1, 510) 

172.79, p .001, and type of disability, F(4, 

1629) 498.13, p .001. Effect of type of 

disability on <strong>the</strong> perception of <strong>the</strong> best educational 

placement is, however, different in <strong>the</strong> 

two countries, interaction effect, F(2, 1629) 

88.41, p .001. 

The major findings of this comparison are 

that more restrictive environments were recommended 

for students with severe disabilities 

than for students with moderate disabilities. 

This pattern was similar in both 

countries, but Zambian respondents consistently 

recommended a more segregated environment 

than Finnish respondents. In Finland, 

ordinary teachers were more segregative 

than special education teachers, whereas in 

<strong>the</strong> Zambian data, <strong>the</strong>re were no statistically 

significant differences between subgroups. 

There were differences between Zambian and 

Finnish respondents in <strong>the</strong>ir perception on 

what disabilities would be most problematic 

from <strong>the</strong> point of view of integration. In Finland, 

it is most difficult to accept that students 

with intellectual disabilities and students with 

behavior problems would be educated in <strong>the</strong> 

mainstream. In Zambia, <strong>the</strong> most problematic 

group in this regard was physically disabled 

children. The integration of visually impaired 

students was seen as almost just as difficult as 

<strong>the</strong> integration of students with intellectual 

disabilities. 

TABLE 5 

Relationship of Experience with Inclusive 

Education and Attitudes Towards Inclusion 

The meaning of experience of inclusive education 

to <strong>the</strong> attitudes towards inclusion was 

analyzed only in <strong>the</strong> Finnish sample because 

in <strong>the</strong> Zambian sample <strong>the</strong> amount of teachers 

having experience with inclusive education 

was small. The quantity of experience of 

inclusive education had no impact on <strong>the</strong> perceptions 

of inclusion. However, <strong>the</strong> quality of 

experience, that is whe<strong>the</strong>r experiences had 

been successful or not, was related to <strong>the</strong> perceptions 

(Table 5). Successful experiences 

seem to increase and unsuccessful experiences 

decrease <strong>the</strong> favorableness of perceptions 

towards inclusion, F(2, 498) 9.28, p 

.001). Those teachers reporting successful experiences 

had more positive perceptions than 

those with no experience or unsuccessful experiences 

(Scheffe, p .001). 


Perceptions of inclusive education vary greatly 

in Zambia and Finland but are on average, 

quite critical. The structure of perceptions is 

similar as indicated by <strong>the</strong> comparable factor 

structures of <strong>the</strong> attitude items in both samples. 

However, perceptions on <strong>the</strong> four dimensions 

of inclusion vary between <strong>the</strong> three 

compared groups. 

The first dimension, social justice, is connected 

to teachers’ beliefs on <strong>the</strong> rationale of 

Impact of Quantity and Quality of Experience on Perception of Inclusive Education. Differences of Means 

(M) of <strong>the</strong> Subgroups in Finnish Sample (n 501) 

Experience n M SD F 

Quantity of experience 

no experience 324 58.04 13.99 

some experience 151 59.66 13.50 0.66 

much experience 19 61.05 13.95 

very much experience 7 59.09 10.70 

Quality of experience 

unsuccessful experience 33 54.12 16.24 

no experience 324 58.04 13.99 9.28*** 

successful experience 144 63.16 12.78 

Note. The higher <strong>the</strong> score is, <strong>the</strong> more positive is <strong>the</strong> perception. 

*** p .001. 


inclusion and its realization in principle. This 

concurs with <strong>the</strong> rights and ethics and political 

discourses as described by Dyson (1999). 

Zambians are most optimistic on this aspect of 

inclusion and among Finns <strong>the</strong>re are large 

differences with ordinary teachers being more 

pessimistic than special education teachers. 

The remaining three dimensions of perceptions—meeting 

special needs of pupils with 

severe disabilities, teachers’ competence, and 

quality of education for non-disabled students 

—relate more to <strong>the</strong> practical issues of inclusion 

and are similar to <strong>the</strong> efficacy and pragmatic 

discourses shown by Dyson. On <strong>the</strong>se 

three dimensions, <strong>the</strong> respondents have <strong>the</strong> 

most pessimistic outlook on <strong>the</strong> first two; 

showing doubts on educating severely disabled 

children in ordinary classes and teachers’ 

competence to cope with <strong>the</strong> situation. 

Both <strong>the</strong> severity and type of disability effect 

perceptions of <strong>the</strong> most suitable educational 

placement for a child with a disability. The 

more severe <strong>the</strong> disability, <strong>the</strong> more a segregated 

educational environment is considered 

to be better for <strong>the</strong> child.. These results are 

similar with some earlier findings (e.g., Bowman, 

1986; Avramidis & Norwich, 2002). On 

average, Zambian respondents seem to prefer 

a more segregated educational environment 

than Finns. 

Opinions of Finnish ordinary and special 

education teachers have similar profiles concerning 

different disability types, but special 

education teachers are consistently more optimistic 

with regard to integration. Integrated 

education is seen as appropriate, especially for 

children who have speech disorders, specific 

learning disabilities, or physical disabilities. 

Placement in a full-time special class or a unit 

in an ordinary school seem to be <strong>the</strong> preferred 

placement, especially for children with 

severe mental disabilities, behavior problems 

and hearing impairment. 

Zambian respondents view <strong>the</strong> situation 

somewhat differently, preferring a more segregated 

educational environment than Finnish 

respondents. Zambians’ opinion profile 

across different disability types also differs 

markedly from Finns (Table 4). Most notably, 

Zambians view that children with severe physical 

disabilities would be best educated in special 

schools with a preference for much more 

segregative education for children with severe 

visual impairments. 


These findings should perhaps not be interpreted 

as an indication of overall attitudes 

towards disabilities, but ra<strong>the</strong>r as a reflection 

of foreseeable practical problems. Zambian 

respondents’ reluctance to integrate children 

with physical disability or visual impairment 

perhaps reflects reality in Zambia with long 

distances to <strong>the</strong> nearest school, which may 

consequently place such children in an unfavorable 

position. Thus, a special school environment 

with boarding facilities can be 

viewed as a more appropriate type of schooling. 

Finally, <strong>the</strong> finding of <strong>the</strong> effect of experience 

on inclusion is very important: experience 

in itself does not result in more favorable 

attitudes; <strong>the</strong> nature and quality of experience 

seem to be a significant influence on <strong>the</strong> way 

attitudes towards inclusive education developed. 

Teachers who had good experiences of 

inclusion were more positive towards inclusion. 

As <strong>the</strong> teachers will be key players in <strong>the</strong> 

development of more inclusive education, it is 

essential to make sure that <strong>the</strong>y have a realistic 

chance to gain positive experience of inclusion 

from <strong>the</strong> very beginning. 

Although inclusion has been universally accepted 

as a common goal, <strong>the</strong>re still exist a 

wide range of opinions regarding inclusive 

education and inclusion is understood in 

many different ways (Dyson, 1999; Ryndak et 

al., 2000). Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, attitudes towards inclusion 

are very much dependent on <strong>the</strong> specific 

aspect of inclusion. This study supports 

<strong>the</strong> previous findings (e.g., Scruggs & Mastropieri, 

1996) in showing that inclusion in 

principle is largely accepted but is viewed as 

more difficult when addressed in practical 

terms. In terms of <strong>the</strong> social justice discourse 

formulated by Dyson, teachers, especially in 

Zambia, seem to think, that inclusion can be 

justified by reference to <strong>the</strong> right of children 

to an education and, moreover, to an education 

that is made available alongside <strong>the</strong> majority 

of <strong>the</strong>ir peers. This is simply part of a 

much wider discourse, in which inclusion is 

seen as an inevitable outcome of a commitment 

ei<strong>the</strong>r to rights as such, or to some more 

generalized notion of social justice. In terms 

of <strong>the</strong> efficacy discourse teachers seem to view 

students with disabilities in <strong>the</strong> context of <strong>the</strong> 

reality of <strong>the</strong> regular education classroom 

ra<strong>the</strong>r than <strong>the</strong> prevailing attitudes about inclusion. 

Teachers see that regular education

classes are not equipped to accommodate students 

with disabilities, thus <strong>the</strong>y demonstrate 

certain reluctance about inclusion. 

In Finland, regular teachers are much more 

pessimistic towards inclusion than special education 

teachers. In Zambia, no such differences 

can be found. This finding perhaps indicates 

that special education has not yet 

established itself as a discrete profession in 

Zambia. Thus, <strong>the</strong> perceptions of all respondents 

vary equally and are in general quite 

critical. In Finland, <strong>the</strong> demand for efficiency 

of teaching and <strong>the</strong> competence it requires 

from teachers is more emphasized in <strong>the</strong> critique 

of inclusion than in Zambia. In Zambia, 

inclusion is viewed more as an avenue to enhance 

social justice than it is perceived in 

Finland. This finding can perhaps be interpreted 

through <strong>the</strong> fact that quite a large 

proportion of children are still excluded from 

schools in Zambia, mainly for socio-economic 

reasons. In countries like Finland, where all 

children are in schools, inclusion is more of 

an internal question of efficiency of <strong>the</strong> school 

system, and we may talk about exclusion only 

in terms of some children being taught in 

special education instead of <strong>the</strong> normal neighborhood 

school. This clearly suggests that <strong>the</strong> 

critical determinants of inclusion are highly 

context-dependent and socio-cultural differences 

should always be borne in mind when 

talking about a universal approach towards 

inclusion. 

In conclusion, this study clearly indicates 

that more comparative research is required. 

Understanding how educators relate to inclusion 

is crucial since <strong>the</strong>y are <strong>the</strong> key resource 

that will make inclusion a reality. Never<strong>the</strong>less, 

in <strong>the</strong> opposite case, <strong>the</strong>y can also become 

<strong>the</strong> key barrier to desired development. 

However, teachers do not as such disagree 

with <strong>the</strong> principle of inclusion; <strong>the</strong>y are 

merely more critical of <strong>the</strong> practicalities. Consequently, 

any policy to transform <strong>the</strong> school 

system towards inclusion that omits <strong>the</strong> accommodation 

of realistic additional resources 

and training support for regular class teachers 

is perhaps a much greater threat to successful 

inclusion than teacher attitudes. The building 

of more inclusive schools should lay <strong>the</strong>ir 

foundations in today’s realities and accept educators’ 

perceptions as part of that reality. 

The nature of this may be very different from 

country to country. 

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Using Assistive Technology Focus Groups with Families 

Across Cultures 

Phil Parette 

Illinois State University 

Jack J. Hourcade 


Mary Blake Huer 

California State University-Fullerton 

Abstract: While numerous approaches exist to ga<strong>the</strong>r information from families having cultural and linguistically 

diverse backgrounds and who have children with developmental disabilities, <strong>the</strong> use of assistive 

technology (AT) focus groups holds great promise for professionals. This article provides an overview of a process 

that can be implemented in school settings by professionals who desire to understand <strong>the</strong> unique AT needs of 

families with cultural and linguistically diverse backgrounds. Specifically, a four-phase strategy is presented for 

collecting information from families regarding <strong>the</strong>ir perceptions of school professionals, appropriateness of <strong>the</strong>ir 

child’s interventions, and o<strong>the</strong>r important attitudes that families might have toward various AT-related 

activities in which <strong>the</strong>ir child is a participant. Emphasis is placed on <strong>the</strong> right person asking <strong>the</strong> right questions 

in <strong>the</strong> right way to <strong>the</strong> right persons at <strong>the</strong> right time and place. 

In recent years, children with developmental 

disabilities from diverse cultural backgrounds 

and <strong>the</strong>ir families have increasingly been 

given attention in <strong>the</strong> assistive technology literature 

(cf. Hourcade, Parette, & Huer, 1997; 

Huer & Saenz, 2003; Kemp & Parette, 2000; 

Parette, 1999). Much of this literature has focused 

on <strong>the</strong> process of identifying and implementing 

appropriate assistive technology devices 

and services. The traditional approach of 

AT has emphasized <strong>the</strong> student and classroom 

in <strong>the</strong> AT decision-making process (cf. Institute 

for Matching Person and Technology, 

1999; Reed & Bowser, 1998; Williams, Stemach, 

Wolf, & Stanger, 1995; Wisconsin Assistive 

Technology Initiative, 1998; Zabala, 

1998). Each of <strong>the</strong>se approaches for assessing 

AT needs emphasizes <strong>the</strong> process of assessment 

using a multidisciplinary, collaborative team 

that employs ecological, functional assessment 

strategies (Bromley, 2001). 

During <strong>the</strong> AT decision-making process, 

specific dimensions that have an effect on AT 


be addressed to Phil Parette, Department of Special 

Education, Illinois State University, Campus Box 

5910, Normal, IL 61790-5910. 



decision-making have been examined, including 

child characteristics, device features, service 

system issues, family issues, cultural factors 

(Parette, 1997). O<strong>the</strong>rs have examined 

evaluation, selection, accommodation, and 

use of AT in <strong>the</strong> context of characteristics (a) 

of <strong>the</strong> technology, (b) (and) requirements of 

<strong>the</strong> milieu/environments of use, and (c) 

(and) resources of <strong>the</strong> person (Institute for 

Matching Person and Technology, 2002). Specific 

approaches for working with <strong>the</strong>se families 

have been noted that acknowledge differences 

in value systems exhibited by 

professionals whose perceptions of child/family 

needs are often markedly different from 

<strong>the</strong> needs articulated by families (Parette & 

McMahan, 2002; Parette, Bro<strong>the</strong>rson, & Huer, 

2000; Parette, Huer, & Bro<strong>the</strong>rson, 2001). 

For example, Parette et al. (2001) found 

that professionals participating in focus 

groups tended to be less (a) family-centered, 

(b) sensitive to cultural issues, and (c) aware 

of <strong>the</strong> potential impact of stressors associated 

with <strong>the</strong> introduction of AT into family systems, 

thus supporting earlier surveys of state 

AT decision-making practices and perceptions 

held by professionals (Parette & Hourcade, 

1997). Failure to acknowledge family priories, 

Technology Focus Groups / 429

esources, and concerns during decision-making—particularly 

internal and external demands, 

including stressors and cultural values—may 

result in ineffective decisionmaking 

and AT abandonment on <strong>the</strong> part of 

families and children with developmental disabilities. 

As noted by Parette et al. (2001): 

Professionals must acknowledge <strong>the</strong> cultural 

traditions, hopes, and value systems of 

families, and understand how <strong>the</strong>se traditions 

and values influence <strong>the</strong> thinking and 

behavior of children and <strong>the</strong>ir families. To 

effectively accomplish this, efforts should be 

made to involve all family members—both 

immediate and extended—with whom <strong>the</strong> 

child with mental retardation and o<strong>the</strong>r developmental 

disabilities may be using <strong>the</strong> 

device. Such involvement will assist professionals 

to ensure that <strong>the</strong> range of. . .needs 

of <strong>the</strong> child across environmental contexts, 

and when interacting with particular individuals 

within those contexts, are accurately 

identified. (p. 80) 

Unfortunately, when working with families 

from diverse cultural backgrounds, approaches 

to AT decision-making are all too 

often couched in <strong>the</strong> values and belief systems 

of Euro American professionals. Such values 

as communication style (e.g., preference for 

eye contact, direct questions, probing feelings, 

Roseberry-McKibbin, 2002), perception 

of disability (e.g., that it is attributable to 

known causes and can thus be ‘fixed’, Hanson, 

1997), perception of child care (i.e., high 

expectations for self-help and self-reliance, 

Kagan, 1984), importance of independence 

(Hanson, Lynch, & Wayman, 1990), and informality 

in human interactions (e.g., using 

first names in greetings, casual dress, Al<strong>the</strong>n, 

1988) typically manifest in specific approaches 

and strategies used by professionals when 

working with families during <strong>the</strong> AT decisionmaking 

process. Family members from different 

cultural backgrounds do, not always perceive 

<strong>the</strong>se Euro American values, and <strong>the</strong> 

resulting strategies and approaches that are 

shaped by <strong>the</strong>se values, favorably. 

For example, if an African American family 

member is approached informally during <strong>the</strong> 

first AT team meeting, and <strong>the</strong> family member’s 

first name is used; this may be perceived 


as a lack of respect (Willis, 1992). Similarly, to 

suggest to <strong>the</strong> family member that <strong>the</strong> child 

engage in solitary learning activities involving 

<strong>the</strong> AT might not be sensitive to <strong>the</strong> family’s 

(and child’s) preference for group learning 

activities (Dabney, Clingmon, Clark-Thomas, 

Coonce, & Wyatt, 1994). King (1999) noted 

that AT professionals must be sensitive to 

whe<strong>the</strong>r or not <strong>the</strong> child with developmental 

disabilities and his/her family come from high 

context or low context cultural backgrounds. 

High context cultures include many Hispanic, 

Native, African, and Asian cultures and place 

great emphasis on understanding through (a) 

shared experience, history, and physical cues 

(Lynch, 1997); and (b) perceived social position 

of <strong>the</strong> family and extended family group 

as a unit and as a community vs. personal 

achievement (Battle, 1993; Hall, 1984). Low 

context cultures, such as Euro American culture, 

tend to minimize <strong>the</strong> importance of 

groups in society while placing great emphasis 

on individualism and personal achievement 

(Hecht, Andersen, & Ribeau, 1989). 

When such culturally insensitive strategies 

are used during AT decision-making processes, 

powerful messages regarding <strong>the</strong> perceived 

value of <strong>the</strong> family and <strong>the</strong>ir cultural 

background may be communicated inadvertently 

by professionals. This may have <strong>the</strong> unanticipated 

result of minimizing team effectiveness, 

particularly commitment on <strong>the</strong> part 

of <strong>the</strong> family, and potentially result in <strong>the</strong> 

selection of AT that may ultimately be abandoned 

by <strong>the</strong> child and family. This suggests a 

need to examine information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring approaches 

and strategies used to encourage 

family involvement in AT decision-making 

used by school systems. 

Despite <strong>the</strong> growing recognition of <strong>the</strong> importance 

of recognizing <strong>the</strong> voices of families 

(Parette et al., 2000), AT decision-making 

continues to rely heavily on <strong>the</strong> input, preferences, 

and expertise of professionals versus 

family members (Parette & Hourcade, 1997). 

Historically, related services personnel such as 

speech/language pathologists have assumed 

primary responsibility on teams for identifying 

appropriate AT devices for children with disabilities. 

As Garshelis and McConnell (1993) 

noted: “For many years professionals have determined 

goals for families with children who

have handicaps based solely on <strong>the</strong>ir own assessments 

of family needs” (p. 37). 

Even in professional AT textbooks <strong>the</strong>re is 

still an undertone suggesting <strong>the</strong> primary importance 

of professional insights and knowledge 

during team decision-making (see e.g., 

Lindsey, 2000), with relatively little information 

regarding <strong>the</strong> role of families in <strong>the</strong> decision-making 

processes. Interestingly, professional 

perspectives are often not shared by 

family members, particularly those from o<strong>the</strong>r 

cultures (Soto, Huer, & Taylor, 1997). However, 

many professionals continue to assume 

primary responsibility for AT decision-making. 

Ga<strong>the</strong>ring Information to Assist in AT 

Decision-Making 

For professionals, <strong>the</strong> task of ga<strong>the</strong>ring information 

that is accurate, valid, reliable, and 

relevant is particularly challenging when 

working with culturally diverse groups during 

AT decision-making (Bevan-Brown, 2001). To 

effectively work with persons from culturally 

diverse backgrounds demands understanding 

of cultural bias, or preconceived points of 

view, customs, beliefs, practices, sample sizes, 

procedures, protocols, translations, and interpretations 

(Huer & Saenz, 2002). Minimizing 

bias and planning collaborative research approaches, 

in particular, “requires constant vigilance 

and effort” (Bevan-Brown, 2001, 

p.139). 

An additional consideration is <strong>the</strong> relationship 

between <strong>the</strong> culture/s of AT professionals 

and <strong>the</strong> culturally diverse communities 

with whom professionals may be involved, particularly 

when <strong>the</strong> professionals are members 

of <strong>the</strong> dominant, or Euro American culture. 

Sometimes, family members from culturally 

diverse communities who have children with 

developmental disabilities served by <strong>the</strong> 

schools during AT decision-making may be 

concerned sharing information with professionals 

from <strong>the</strong> larger culture (Huer & Saenz, 

2002). This can be an artifact of a result of a 

history of racism and discrimination (Terrell, 

Battle, & Grantham, 1998) or a lack of acceptance 

of views or practices by <strong>the</strong> dominant 

culture. In addition, AT professionals may inadvertently 

fail to recognize and/or acknowledge 

important cultural issues because of dif- 

ferences in perspectives and life experiences. 

Huer and Saenz observed that professionals 

may overlook or ignore important differences 

in viewpoints or practices, or subconsciously 

adopt an adversarial mindset that devalues 

perspectives of culturally diverse family members. 

This may result in AT interpretations, 

outcomes, and approaches that are unintentionally 

discriminatory, condescending, or patronizing. 

Typically, teachers and o<strong>the</strong>r professionals 

use a variety of approaches to get information 

from families, including interviews, use of 

questionnaires, and ecological observations 

during AT decision-making processes. These 

strategies, while sometimes effective in providing 

highly specific information related to an 

individual family and child, generally do not 

provide information regarding broad cultural 

issues that might exist as well as important 

service strategies for a larger class of individuals 

being served by <strong>the</strong> school (see e.g., 

Lynch & Hanson, 1997; Parette, 1998). For 

example, using only a structured interview approach, 

professionals might identify some 

highly specific needs for one Hispanic family 

(e.g., <strong>the</strong> child wants a computer for academic 

activities; <strong>the</strong> family prefers that <strong>the</strong> child use 

<strong>the</strong> AT in group learning activities vs. solitary 

learning activities), though broader issues relevant 

to o<strong>the</strong>r Hispanic families served by <strong>the</strong> 

professionals might be overlooked (e.g., preferences 

for a community liaison to provide 

specific AT training vs. by a school professional; 

understanding <strong>the</strong> perceived importance 

placed on education by <strong>the</strong> family). 

Identification of broad culturally and linguistically 

sensitive family AT concerns are critical 

if <strong>the</strong> specific needs of children and families 

are to be effectively addressed; such concerns 

typically provide <strong>the</strong> “backdrop” against which 

effective service delivery should be implemented. 

The AT Focus Group: An Effective 

Information-Ga<strong>the</strong>ring Approach 

One approach that has <strong>the</strong> potential for great 

utility for special education and related service 

professionals during AT decision-making 

is <strong>the</strong> use of assistive technology focus groups (see 

e.g., Greenbaum, 1993; Krueger, 1988). Generally, 

a focus group is a structured informa- 


tion-ga<strong>the</strong>ring strategy in which (a) a small 

group of individuals from a specific cultural 

background (e.g., Vietnamese; Mexican- 

Americans; Cuban Americans) is brought toge<strong>the</strong>r; 

(b) a moderator presents specific 

questions (based on a research knowledge 

base—cultural issue areas that appear to be 

specific to <strong>the</strong> group); (c) participants are 

allowed to respond to <strong>the</strong> questions posed or 

provide additional responses not necessarily 

related to <strong>the</strong> question with <strong>the</strong> moderator 

pursuing <strong>the</strong> “new” or “emerging” issues; (d) 

responses to questions are captured (e.g., audio 

taped, videotaped) and transcribed; (e) 

narrative, typed, transcriptions are analyzed to 

identify <strong>the</strong>mes for <strong>the</strong> specific group; and (f) 

action is taken to address <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>mes identified. 

Figure 1 presents an overview of <strong>the</strong> various 

phases involved in <strong>the</strong> assistive technology 

focus group process. This process can 

prove to be invaluable in gaining insights— 

often unanticipated outcomes—regarding <strong>the</strong> 

AT needs and preferences of families from 

specific culturally and linguistically diverse 

backgrounds (see Huer & Parette, 1999). 

An important caveat for using focus groups 

as an information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring approach with 

families from culturally diverse backgrounds 

and who have children with developmental 

disabilities is ensuring that <strong>the</strong> “right person 

(italics added). . .ask <strong>the</strong> right questions of <strong>the</strong> 

right people in <strong>the</strong> right way at <strong>the</strong> right place and 

time (<strong>the</strong> six “Rs”)” (Bevan-Brown, 2001, p. 

139). These six requirements provide a conceptual 

framework from which professionals 

may begin to dialogue about culturally appropriate 

information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring practices during 

AT decision-making, particularly when using 

focus groups. Each of <strong>the</strong>se requirements is 

addressed in <strong>the</strong> following sections as phases 

for focus group implementation are described. 

Phase 1-Preparations Before Meeting with <strong>the</strong> 

Families: Identifying <strong>the</strong> Right People to Ask 

<strong>the</strong> Right Questions 

During <strong>the</strong> first phase, professionals (a) identify 

an ethnic/cultural/language group (or 

groups) of interest based on <strong>the</strong> demographics 

of <strong>the</strong> children with developmental disabilities 

within <strong>the</strong>ir schools; (b) conduct reviews 

of <strong>the</strong> literature regarding AT best practices, 


protocols, and questions that might be explored 

using <strong>the</strong> assistive technology focus 

groups; and (c) determine <strong>the</strong> right people to 

ask <strong>the</strong> right questions. Efforts should be 

made to read about and understand <strong>the</strong> basic 

skills required for effective focus group moderation 

(see e.g., Huer & Parette, 1999; Parette 

et al., 1999). Bevan-Brown (2001) emphasized 

<strong>the</strong> importance of <strong>the</strong> right person 

asking questions during an information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring 

activity such as focus groups. A moderator 

who represents <strong>the</strong> cultural or linguistic 

background of <strong>the</strong> AT focus group participants 

is most ideal and desirable, as members 

of <strong>the</strong> team should always include members 

from within <strong>the</strong> community of interest. 

Though sometimes difficult to implement, 

this ideally requires that <strong>the</strong> interviewer and 

interviewees to be suitably matched by gender, 

age and socioeconomic status. In some cultures, 

for example, a man cannot ask a woman 

personal questions, precluding his ability to 

obtain background information that might be 

helpful in AT decision-making without violating 

cultural norms. Studies that have employed 

such changes in AT information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring 

strategies have been reported elsewhere 

in <strong>the</strong> literature (cf. Huer, 2000; Huer, Saenz, 

& Doan, 2001). When investigators have <strong>the</strong> 

same ethnic background and cultural experience 

as participants, issues arising from differences 

between one population and ano<strong>the</strong>r 

are often mitigated (Huer & Saenz, 2002). 

Specific AT issues or questions to be presented 

to <strong>the</strong> focus groups may originate from 

past experiences of professionals working with 

families, and o<strong>the</strong>r literature sources that offer 

a framework for specific questions that 

might be asked, as well as <strong>the</strong> protocol for 

conducting <strong>the</strong> focus group. A sample protocol 

and questions related to an assistive technology-oriented 

focus group are presented in 

Figures 2 and 3. In addition, educators should 

include o<strong>the</strong>r individuals as members of <strong>the</strong> 

information ga<strong>the</strong>ring and planning team including 

(a) a moderator having expertise in 

working with focus groups (if no such educator 

with <strong>the</strong> appropriate training is available); 

and (b) members from within <strong>the</strong> community 

of interest, for validation of <strong>the</strong> topics selected. 

Making decisions about <strong>the</strong> questions 

that will be asked is not a straightforward task, 

and presents substantial challenges to AT pro-

Figure 1. Sample assistive technology focus group process. © 2003, by H. P. Parette & M. B. Huer, used with 

permission. 


Figure 2. Sample protocol for an AT diversity focus group. 


Figure 3. Sample questions for an AT diversity focus group. 

fessionals to understand <strong>the</strong> culture(s) being 

investigated. For example, Huer (2000) reported 

that questions about AT-related issues 

posed to consumers, families, and clinicians 

from different cultural backgrounds may not 

have perceived in <strong>the</strong> same way, which raised 

questions regarding (a) how such differences 

in perceptions might affect <strong>the</strong> success of <strong>the</strong> 

intervention provided, and (b) whe<strong>the</strong>r differences 

in perception negatively impact <strong>the</strong> 

child’s acquisition, generalization, and/or 

maintenance of newly acquired skills? Selection 

of <strong>the</strong> right questions will often require 

professionals to discuss definitions of beliefs, 

values, practices, experiences, language, and 

representations and o<strong>the</strong>r aspects of human 

experience. 

Understanding varying cultural views of disability 

and its relationship to diagnosis and 

treatment may be crucial to AT interventions 

provided for children with developmental disabilities 

and <strong>the</strong>ir families. For example, Parette 

et al. (2000), Huer et al. (2001), and 

Chuang (2002) reported different perspec- 

tives of disability. Parette et al. (2000) noted 

stigma being associated with disabilities within 

<strong>the</strong> community and <strong>the</strong> difficulties individuals 

with disabilities faced. This preliminary information 

provided a rationale for specific questions 

subsequently posed to family members 

in a survey of a larger group of respondents 

(Huer et al., 2001) in which participants did 

not report rejection of individuals with disabilities. 

Chuang’s (2002) study of first generation 

Asian families paralleled <strong>the</strong> findings of Huer 

et al., though each of <strong>the</strong> three studies reflected 

an apparent diversity of opinions 

within <strong>the</strong> community being studied. Interestingly, 

common to both samples from <strong>the</strong> Vietnamese-American 

population in <strong>the</strong> Huer et 

al. study was <strong>the</strong> belief that <strong>the</strong>re was little that 

could be done for individuals with disabilities, 

which would affect individuals’ attempts to 

access available health care services. As noted 

by Huer and Saenz (2002) <strong>the</strong> differences of 

opinions revealed might have been attributable 

to differences in information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring 

approaches used. 


Consideration of diverse cultural values is 

ano<strong>the</strong>r important aspect of asking <strong>the</strong> right 

questions (Bevan-Brown, 2001). For example, 

individualism (e.g, learning to care for oneself 

and become independent of <strong>the</strong> family) is an 

important value of Euro American culture 

(Hanson, 1997) and is often a consideration 

when making decisions about appropriate AT 

for children with developmental disabilities. 

In o<strong>the</strong>r cultural groups having a collectivist 

orientation (e.g., many Asian, African, and 

Latin cultures) persons are expected to be 

more interdependent and to rely on one ano<strong>the</strong>r 

(Triandis, Brislin, & Hui, 1988), that 

might mitigate against recommendations for 

certain types of AT designed to promote independent 

functioning. 

Huer and Saenz (2003) noted that <strong>the</strong> extent 

to which value is placed on independence 

versus dependence may or may not be readily 

apparent during AT decision-making processes. 

For example, family members with limited 

English proficiency may assume primary 

care for children with disabilities and thus 

clearly demonstrate a ‘preference’ for dependence 

on <strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> child when an AT 

solution is being considered. However, recent 

studies (cf. Chuang, 2002; Huer, Parette, & 

Saenz, 2001) reported preferences for electronic 

communication devices that used English 

speech only vs. <strong>the</strong> child’s native (or 

home) language. While on <strong>the</strong> surface, it 

might easily be interpreted that <strong>the</strong>se families 

did not value independence (since <strong>the</strong> devices 

could not be used in <strong>the</strong> home environments), 

Huer and Sanez (2003) noted a variety 

of alternative explanations which appear 

to lie along a continuum ranging from valuing 

dependence to aspirations for total independence 

on <strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> child. Ra<strong>the</strong>r than 

relying on interpretations of those ga<strong>the</strong>ring 

information, more accurate insights may be 

gained from responses to questions to about 

cultural values. 

Ano<strong>the</strong>r aspect of asking <strong>the</strong> right question 

is related to <strong>the</strong> concepts expressed by means 

of language (Bevan-Brown, 2001). For example, 

Li (1999) reported that bilingual individuals 

who are fluent in communicating in <strong>the</strong>ir 

second languages conveyed considerably less 

information than in <strong>the</strong>ir first languages. This 

may be a function of vocabulary existing in 

one language but not in <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, or words in 


one language not conveying messages easily 

translated into <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r language (American 

Speech-Language-Hearing Association, 2003). 

Similarly, nonverbal communication cues or 

language patterns have been misunderstood 

because of cultural differences (Southworth, 

1999). The very act of interviewing may be 

foreign to members of some cultures with <strong>the</strong> 

potential reactions of confusion or mistrust 

(Designing and Conducting Research, 2001). 

Similarly, members of some communities may 

be accustomed to communicating very indirectly 

and, as a result, find direct questions 

about sensitive topics unsettling (Chan, 1997; 

Uba, 1994). Questions, <strong>the</strong>refore, must be 

judged in terms of <strong>the</strong>ir cultural appropriateness 

and directness (Huer et al., 2001). 

Finally, during Phase 1, decisions regarding 

how <strong>the</strong> AT focus group information will be 

captured should be made. Both videotape and 

audiotape are appropriate strategies, though 

audiotape allows easier transcription subsequent 

to conducting <strong>the</strong> diversity focus group. 

As <strong>the</strong> educational team nears <strong>the</strong> end of 

Phase 1, family members from specific cultural 

and linguistic backgrounds who might 

be willing to participate in <strong>the</strong> focus group 

should be identified. Efforts should be made 

not to mix families from culturally and linguistic 

subgroups within a larger cultural group 

(e.g., families with backgrounds from Spain 

are different from Mexican Americans who 

are also different from Cuban Americans, 

though all are generally viewed by Euro Americans 

as being of Hispanic origin). 

Phase 2-Extending Invitations to Participate and 

Providing Supports: Importance of <strong>the</strong> Right 

Person 

When bringing groups of people who have 

children with developmental disabilities toge<strong>the</strong>r 

from culturally diverse communities, it 

is desirable to have a large and varied sample 

of members to ensure representation of <strong>the</strong> 

community. A number of factors should ideally 

be considered, including differences in 

age, exposure to <strong>the</strong> larger culture, age of 

immigration, socioeconomic status, and number 

of years in a new or different country 

(Padilla & Lindholm, 1995; Stewart, Bond, 

Deeds, & Chung, 1999). However, a caveat to 

ensuring representation is <strong>the</strong> ever present

danger of overlooking potentially important 

participants. Huer and Saenz (2002) reported 

that inclusion of members of extended family 

as participants in focus groups facilitated understanding 

of <strong>the</strong> AT issues being explored. 

Once a group of family members has been 

identified, invitations should be extended to 

participate. Depending on <strong>the</strong> degree of involvement 

demonstrated by <strong>the</strong> particular 

family members in <strong>the</strong> past, a community liaison 

(e.g., someone known within <strong>the</strong> cultural/linguistic 

community of concern) or interpreter 

might need to be employed to assist 

in making contact via telephone or personal 

contact. Families should be given information 

regarding <strong>the</strong> proposed diversity focus group, 

along with information regarding supports 

that will be afforded <strong>the</strong>m, including, but not 

limited to child care for children during family 

participation, transportation, a small honoraria, 

and o<strong>the</strong>r needed supports to encourage 

participation. Reminders should be given 

to family members who consent to participate, 

and plans should be made to compensate families 

immediately (if possible) for <strong>the</strong>ir participation. 

Phase 3-Conducting <strong>the</strong> AT Focus Group: Asking 

Questions in <strong>the</strong> Right Way in <strong>the</strong> Right Place 

and Time 

Bevan-Brown (2001) noted that procedures 

for gaining access to culturally diverse groups 

and strategies for ga<strong>the</strong>ring information must 

be adhered to carefully during both planning 

and implementation phases. The language of 

<strong>the</strong> focus group instrument/protocol, <strong>the</strong> use 

of jargon by <strong>the</strong> interviewer, and culturally 

appropriate practices while conducting <strong>the</strong> focus 

group have been critical factors requiring 

careful prior planning. Huer and Saenz 

(2002) noted that a variety of strategies may 

need to be employed to build rapport and 

communicate respect for <strong>the</strong> cultural group 

participating in <strong>the</strong> information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring activity. 

For example, in conducting focus 

groups, Parette et al. (2000) reported serving 

special ethnic foods during <strong>the</strong> full day of 

interviews within a Hispanic community, but 

spent less time, without food, while conducting 

Asian community interviews. Ano<strong>the</strong>r example 

of building and gaining trust and cooperation 

within a community was a procedure 

followed in an information-ga<strong>the</strong>ring activity 

with Vietnamese individuals (Huer et al., 

2001). In this study, a regional Vietnamese 

religious conference was used to distribute 

once it was realized that <strong>the</strong> literature suggested 

that Vietnamese American families had 

grown to distrust outsiders and to fear inquiries 

from government agencies (Heifetz, 1990; 

Lynch, 1997; To, 1993). 

It is also important that on <strong>the</strong> scheduled 

day of <strong>the</strong> AT focus group, professionals 

should ensure that all identified supports, for 

example, honoraria, are provided to facilitate 

success of <strong>the</strong> activity, and to build trust (i.e., 

communicating to families that what was 

promised will be delivered). If <strong>the</strong> literature 

reviews and conversations with members from 

<strong>the</strong> community have indicated that <strong>the</strong> particular 

cultural and linguistically diverse group 

prefers a certain style of communication when 

ga<strong>the</strong>ring in groups, for example, socializing 

with refreshments, plans should be made for 

favorite food and drinks to be available to 

participants on <strong>the</strong> day of <strong>the</strong> focus group. 

When it is learned that a preferred style of 

communication emphasizes “timeliness,” <strong>the</strong> 

moderator should be attentive to beginning 

and ending <strong>the</strong> session as promised. 

Ano<strong>the</strong>r strategy has been to conduct <strong>the</strong> 

focus groups in <strong>the</strong> language or languages of 

<strong>the</strong> participants, if preferred (Huer, 2000; 

Huer, Parette, & Saenz, 2001; Huer et al., 

2001). Huer et al., for example, prepared 

questionnaires both in English and Vietnamese, 

and offered <strong>the</strong> participants choice regarding 

<strong>the</strong> version <strong>the</strong>y preferred. 

Conducting <strong>the</strong> AT focus group in <strong>the</strong> right 

place is also a critical consideration (Bevan- 

Brown, 2001). Parette et al. (2000) reported 

meeting family members in a variety of settings 

including <strong>the</strong>ir homes, at <strong>the</strong>ir children’s 

schools, or at locations convenient for 

<strong>the</strong>ir jobs. The choice of a familiar site, as well 

as adopting <strong>the</strong> language of <strong>the</strong> participants 

and conducting interviews within a social interaction 

can minimize <strong>the</strong> risk of intimidation 

resulting from choosing a more formal 

and unfamiliar setting (Huer, Parette, & 

Saenz, 2001). 

As appropriate for <strong>the</strong> group in attendance, 

<strong>the</strong> focus group should begin by suggested 

seating arrangements, introductions, and implementation 

of <strong>the</strong> protocol that was devel- 


oped during Phase 1. The proceedings should 

be audio or video recorded to allow for later 

transcriptions to occur. As <strong>the</strong> moderator begins 

to lead <strong>the</strong> discussion, adequate time 

should be provided for each family member 

asking and answering questions, or making 

o<strong>the</strong>r comments, as well as adequate time for 

translations (as necessary) between <strong>the</strong> moderator 

and participants. As probe questions 

are presented and participants respond, additional 

concerns may be raised that were not 

anticipated in <strong>the</strong> original protocol. The moderator 

will probably want to pursue <strong>the</strong> newly 

identified issues with additional probe questions 

until <strong>the</strong> families have addressed <strong>the</strong>ir 

concerns fully, after which <strong>the</strong> moderator may 

lead <strong>the</strong> discussion back to <strong>the</strong> initial protocol 

questions, when appropriate and as time permits. 

At <strong>the</strong> conclusion of <strong>the</strong> focus group, 

families might be asked for permission to be 

contacted for follow-up at a later date to participate 

during <strong>the</strong> verification of <strong>the</strong> findings. 

Phase 4-Examining <strong>the</strong> Findings 

The record of <strong>the</strong> AT focus group (ei<strong>the</strong>r 

audio- or videotaped) should be transcribed. 

Once a textual narrative of <strong>the</strong> proceedings is 

available, at least two different educators or 

reviewers examine <strong>the</strong> text for <strong>the</strong>mes. Both 

reviewers examine <strong>the</strong> typed records of responses 

to questions and make notes in <strong>the</strong> 

margins of <strong>the</strong> transcripts, for example, several 

paragraphs of narrative might address a 

repeated concern about classroom objectives. 

Statements such as “I’m not sure what s/he is 

working on at school” and “I don’t understand 

all <strong>the</strong> homework assignments” might 

simply be noted in <strong>the</strong> margin by <strong>the</strong> reviewer 

as “Class Objectives.” Once all comments have 

been summarized into short notes, specific 

<strong>the</strong>mes should be identified, for example, a 

number of notes made in <strong>the</strong> margins might 

be grouped under “Training Concerns” while 

o<strong>the</strong>r comments might fit under a <strong>the</strong>me of 

“Lack of Availability to Classroom Teacher.” 

Family members may have also articulated 

concerns that are unique to <strong>the</strong>ir cultural and 

linguistic background that may be grouped by 

<strong>the</strong> reviewers under <strong>the</strong>mes such as “Language 

Problems” or “Insensitivity of Professionals 

to Family Preferences.” Each reader 

should examine <strong>the</strong> narrative and repeat this 

process; differences in perceived important 

topics and <strong>the</strong>mes will later be discussed between 

<strong>the</strong> two reviewers. Agreed upon AT 

<strong>the</strong>mes and specific issues related to each 

should <strong>the</strong>n be summarized and presented to 

targeted diversity focus group participants to 

verify/ respond to <strong>the</strong> summary statements. 

Inclusion of members from <strong>the</strong> particular 

group in question, during all phases of <strong>the</strong> 

diversity focus groups, provides for important 

and necessary verification of <strong>the</strong> process, and 

ensures representative and accurate summary 

of information discovered before implementation 

upon any decision-making or service 

delivery modification that is sensitive to <strong>the</strong> 

family’s cultural/linguistic background. 

Conclusion 

The utility of <strong>the</strong> described AT focus group 

approach, coupled with incorporating <strong>the</strong> 

principles of <strong>the</strong> six Rs (Bevan-Brown, 2001) 

for collecting needed information necessary 

for effective and culturally/linguistically sensitive 

AT decision-making cannot be overemphasized. 

Although a relatively simple 4-phase 

description of <strong>the</strong> diversity focus group process 

has been presented, professionals will 

find that each AT focus group activity provides 

valuable understanding of <strong>the</strong> needs from 

within <strong>the</strong> educational system from <strong>the</strong> perspectives 

of a variety of families, often unique, 

deep and meaningful insights which do impact 

<strong>the</strong> educational process. 

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Retrieved January 7, 2003 at http://www2.edc.org/ 

NCIP/Workshops/sett3/index.html

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S (Motivating Activities Geared-to 

Instilling Confidence–Wonderful Opportunities 

to Raise Kid’s Self-Esteem) 

Dan Ezell and Colleen E. Klein-Ezell 

University of Central Florida-Brevard Campus 

Abstract: This study investigates use of magic tricks to increase self-esteem and self-confidence of children with 

disabilities. Twenty-six children with various disabilities at both elementary and secondary levels volunteered for 

<strong>the</strong> study. Participants were taught various magic tricks and were given weeks of practice time to perfect <strong>the</strong>ir 

presentation prior to performing for o<strong>the</strong>rs. Pre- and post-test measures of self-esteem and self-confidence were 

determined using <strong>the</strong> Self-Image domain from <strong>the</strong> Self-Confidence dimension on <strong>the</strong> Student Self-Concept Scale. 

Overall results indicate that a statistical increase in self-esteem and self-confidence was noted for <strong>the</strong> entire group 

at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> study. Significance of results and <strong>the</strong>ir implications are discussed. 

Use of magic tricks has amazed audiences 

throughout <strong>the</strong> world for many years starting 

in <strong>the</strong> late 1880s with perhaps <strong>the</strong> most famous 

magician ever, Harry Houdini. Modern 

magicians like David Copperfield continue to 

amaze audiences today. The amusement of 

magic seems to have a universal attraction to 

people, both young and old, but how might 

<strong>the</strong> use of magic earn a place in educational 

settings, particularly for students with disabilities? 

Frith and Walker (1983) convey that <strong>the</strong> 

inherent benefit of using magic tricks with 

children with disabilities lies in <strong>the</strong>ir increased 

self-concept and self-confidence. 

Self-esteem and self-confidence are important 

psychological attributes for personal 

growth in <strong>the</strong> quest to become productive 

citizens in society; <strong>the</strong>refore, attaining and 

keeping self-esteem and self-confidence is 

highly valued (Cast & Burke, 2002). Generally, 

self-esteem is an individual’s evaluation of 

<strong>the</strong> self (Rosenberg, 1979; Rosenberg, 

Schooler, Schoenbach, & Rosenberg, 1995). 

Gresham, Elliott, and Evans-Hernandez 

(1993) referred to a more limiting definition 


be addressed to Dan Ezell, University of Central 

Florida-Brevard Campus, College of Education, 

1519 Clearlake Road, Cocoa, FL 32922-6598. E-mail: 

dezell@mail.ucf.edu. 



of self-esteem by only including “students’ selfperceptions 

regarding <strong>the</strong> possession of culturally-valued 

personal attributes” (p. 7). 

Components of self-esteem include self-confidence 

(Owens, 1993). Without self-esteem 

and self-confidence, <strong>the</strong> possibility of leading 

a successful productive life decreases. For children 

with disabilities, self-esteem and self-confidence 

are crucial elements to <strong>the</strong>ir success. 

Typically, students with disabilities experience 

frustration due to low academic achievement 

and repeated failure in daily activities. Because 

of <strong>the</strong>se feelings of frustration and experiences 

of repeated failure, students with 

disabilities may experience low self-esteem 

and lack of self-confidence since it is generally 

believed that self-esteem and self-confidence 

result from successful experiences. 

For many years, researchers have debated 

controversial issues related to self-esteem and 

self-confidence as it pertains to individuals 

with disabilities (Glenn & Cunningham, 2001; 

MacMaster, Donovan, & MacIntyre, 2002; 

Tamm & Prellwitz, 2001). Many factors have 

to be explored to accurately understand selfesteem 

and self-confidence of children with 

disabilities. The developmental stages of individuals 

are a key factor when interpreting results 

from instruments that measure perceptions 

of self (Harter, 1983). Harter suggests 

that children after <strong>the</strong> age of eight will be 

more apt to realistically evaluate <strong>the</strong>ir percep- 

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. / 441

tion of self. Children below <strong>the</strong> age of seven 

may not evaluate <strong>the</strong>mselves realistically and 

may “think <strong>the</strong>y were good at everything” 

(Glenn & Cunningham, p. 175). This is particularly 

important when measuring self-esteem 

and self-confidence of individuals with 

cognitive disabilities/mental retardation because 

<strong>the</strong>ir mental age may be significantly 

different from <strong>the</strong>ir chronological age, thus 

creating an inflated positive self-image. When 

working with young teenagers with Down syndrome 

who had mental ages between four and 

seven years, Cuskelly and de Jong (1996) reported 

14 out of <strong>the</strong> 33 participants in <strong>the</strong>ir 

study indicated <strong>the</strong>y were very capable of reading 

alone yet, in reality, those 14 could not 

read at all. 

Researchers tend to agree that children 

with emotional and behavioral problems generally 

have low self-esteem (Gresham, 1995; 

King & Daniel, 1996). However, <strong>the</strong> research 

on children with learning disabilities appears 

to be divided. Numerous studies cited by 

Durrant, Cunningham, and Voelker (1990) 

suggested that children with learning disabilities 

have an increased risk of low self-esteem. 

Some researchers attribute low self-esteem of 

students with learning disabilities to various 

factors such as being negatively perceived by 

<strong>the</strong>ir teachers and peers (Gresham & MacMillan, 

1997), having difficulty with social acceptance 

(Vaughn, Hogan, Kouzekanani, & Shapiro, 

1990; Wiest, Wong, & Kreil, 1998), and 

experiencing academic difficulties (Leondari, 

1993). O<strong>the</strong>r researchers, however, have 

found that self-esteem of students with learning 

disabilities increases once <strong>the</strong>y have a diagnosis 

and understand <strong>the</strong>ir condition (Gordon, 

1979; Heyman, 1990; MacMaster et al., 

2002). Studies on <strong>the</strong> self-esteem of individuals 

with physical disabilities report conflicting 

research results as well. Fox (2002), in his 

review of <strong>the</strong> research literature, found that 

children with physical disabilities did not have 

a lower self-esteem than <strong>the</strong>ir peers who had 

no physical disabilities. A study conducted by 

Blake and Rust (2002) indicated similar results 

stating that <strong>the</strong> self-esteem of students 

with physical disabilities were <strong>the</strong> same as or 

higher than <strong>the</strong> normative sample in <strong>the</strong> 

study. Conversely, research findings suggest 

that individuals with physical disabilities face 

greater self-esteem issues than <strong>the</strong> general 

population, including negative feedback 

based on <strong>the</strong>ir physical difference (Lawrence, 

1991; Stone, 1995; Wendell, 1996). In general, 

research results on <strong>the</strong> self-esteem and selfconfidence 

of individuals with disabilities are 

clearly inconclusive (Leondari). 

Although researchers do not agree on <strong>the</strong> 

various issues related to self-esteem and selfconfidence 

of individuals with disabilities and 

caution should be taken when assessing and 

interpreting <strong>the</strong>se attributes, no research was 

found that indicated that increasing self-esteem 

and self-confidence was undesirable. 

The bottom line remains that high self-image 

is a positive and note-worthy goal. 

Use of Magic in <strong>the</strong> Educational Setting 


Frith and Walker (1983) in <strong>the</strong>ir article entitled, 

Magic as motivation for handicapped students, 

suggested <strong>the</strong> use of magic as a motivator 

for children with disabilities. Authors 

provided general guidelines for teacher demonstration 

tricks and teaching tricks to students. 

For teacher demonstration tricks, authors 

suggested teachers practice caution 

when choosing materials to use for magic 

tricks being sure not to use objects that could 

potentially be dangerous. They fur<strong>the</strong>r suggested 

teachers practice <strong>the</strong> tricks prior to 

demonstrating <strong>the</strong>m to <strong>the</strong> students to prevent 

making mistakes. General guidelines for 

teaching magic tricks to students include introducing 

<strong>the</strong> easier tricks first and making 

sure that students mastered old tricks prior to 

teaching new ones. 

Some noteworthy programs have reportedly 

had positive results in using magic with individuals 

with disabilities. Such programs include: 

Project Magic (Falcon, 2002) developed 

by David Copperfield, Magic for Special Education 

(Society of American Magicians, n.d.), 

and The Magic Within You (Bentley, 2001) developed 

by Aubrey Fine. All of <strong>the</strong> above programs 

involved using magic with children with 

special needs and reported positive results in 

areas of self-esteem, self-confidence, and physical 

dexterity. 

McCormack (1985) reported use of magic 

tricks to enhance student learning in science 

classes by inspiring creative problem-solving 

skills, keen observational techniques, and productive 

skepticism. Bowman (1986) suggested

use of magic tricks to assist in establishing 

rapport with individuals or groups of children 

in <strong>the</strong> counseling setting. He fur<strong>the</strong>r suggested 

use of magic tricks to reward or reinforce 

desired behaviors in students who have 

behavior problems. Spruill and Poidevant 

(1993) concur with Bowman concerning use 

of magic tricks in <strong>the</strong> counseling setting and 

note its particular use in reaching students 

who are “shy, unmotivated, lacking in selfconfidence, 

or in need of better eye-hand coordination” 

(p. 231). In 1989, Broome developed 

The Magic Kids program for students who 

have behavior and emotional disorders as a 

strategy to build teamwork and increase selfesteem. 

She concluded that after <strong>the</strong> children 

presented numerous magic shows, benefits 

were noted in <strong>the</strong> students’ self-esteem, social 

progress, and academic skills. She emphasized 

that it is critical for teachers to make a tremendous 

effort to prove to children who have 

disabilities <strong>the</strong>y can learn something and be 

successful. Broome emphasized, “Every positive 

experience that teachers can give a student 

with low self-esteem helps <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>rapeutic 

process of making that student feel like a 

worthwhile person” (p. 5). 

In addition to an increased level of selfconfidence, 

Frith and Walker (1983) listed 

o<strong>the</strong>r possible advantages for using magic with 

children with disabilities that include improvement 

in <strong>the</strong> following areas: gross motor 

skills, fine motor skills, eye-hand coordination 

skills, socialization skills, generalization skills, 

confidentiality skills, and concentration skills. 

They also suggested that magic puts children 

with disabilities at an advantage point because 

it allows <strong>the</strong>m to accomplish a task that <strong>the</strong>ir 

non-disabled peers cannot accomplish. 

Use of magic tricks for educational instructional 

goals is not a highly visible occurrence 

in professional literature. Actually, very little 

empirical evidence exists in professional literature 

that investigates use of magic tricks with 

school-aged children. Use of magic tricks with 

children is very common in commercial advertisement 

literature. Even though hundreds of 

books have been published that focus on 

magic tricks designed for children, few focus 

on educational purposes. 

Generally, <strong>the</strong>se commercial advertisements 

and books emphasize <strong>the</strong> enjoyment 

and amusement value for children. While en- 

joyment and amusement may be great selling 

points for those who sell magic products, <strong>the</strong> 

researchers of this study wanted to empirically 

examine <strong>the</strong> use of magic tricks as it relates to 

<strong>the</strong> educational value. Specifically, <strong>the</strong> researchers 

investigate if <strong>the</strong> process of learning 

and performing magic tricks would impact <strong>the</strong> 

self-esteem and self-confidence of children 

with disabilities. Frith and Walker (1983) 

stated, “Special education teachers who make 

<strong>the</strong> effort to add magic tricks to <strong>the</strong>ir instructional 

repertoires may be surprised at <strong>the</strong> results” 

(p. 109). 

The purpose of this study was to investigate 

use of magic tricks as a possible tool to increase 

<strong>the</strong> children’s self-esteem and self-confidence. 

Children with disabilities were taught 

to perform entertaining skills of “prestidigitation” 

and o<strong>the</strong>r charming and seemingly miraculous 

eye-hand coordination activities, o<strong>the</strong>rwise 

known as magic tricks. They were given 

<strong>the</strong> opportunity to first perform <strong>the</strong>ir magic 

tricks for younger children and <strong>the</strong>n perform 

for <strong>the</strong>ir non-disabled peers. The clever, astonishing, 

and entertaining activities (i.e., 

magic tricks) were designed to provide a fun 

and motivational way for <strong>the</strong> children with 

disabilities to practice and enhance presentation 

skills in anticipation of increasing <strong>the</strong>ir 

self-esteem and self-confidence in <strong>the</strong> process. 

Pre-and post-test measures were conducted to 

determine if children’s self-esteem and selfconfidence 

increased as a result of learning 

and performing magic tricks. 

Method 

Participants and Setting 

Twenty-six children (seventeen males and 

nine females) with various disabilities (cognitive 

disabilities/mental retardation, behavior 

disorders, learning disabilities, and physical 

disabilities) were selected for this study. Children 

at both <strong>the</strong> elementary and secondary 

levels were involved. All children attended local 

public schools. Children were selected 

based on <strong>the</strong> recommendation of a university 

intern or practicum student and receipt of 

parental consent. 

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. / 443

Instrumentation and Materials 

The Student Self-Concept Scale (SSCS; Gresham, 

Elliott, & Evans-Fernandez, 1993) was 

utilized as a pre/post determination of participants’ 

self-esteem and self-confidence. The 

SSCS is a 72-item self-report measure of three 

domains: Self-Image, Academic, and Social 

based on three rating dimensions: Self-Confidence, 

Importance, and Outcome Confidence. 

SSCS received great reviews for <strong>the</strong> 

authors’ special emphasis on including students 

with disabilities in <strong>the</strong> standardization 

sample and it is considered to be a “sound and 

rigorously developed and validated measure” 

(Impara & Plake, 1998, p. 969) of self-concept. 

For <strong>the</strong> purpose of this study, only <strong>the</strong> Self- 

Confidence dimension of <strong>the</strong> Self-Image domain 

and <strong>the</strong> Lie Scale were utilized for <strong>the</strong> 

pre/post testing which involved presentation 

of 19 items from <strong>the</strong> SSCS. The Self-Image 

domain items address self-concept issues, in 

terms of self-esteem, looking at students’ perceptions 

about culturally valued behaviors 

such as personal attributes, popularity, physical 

attractiveness, and physical skill. Sample 

items from <strong>the</strong> SSCS Self-Image domain include 

<strong>the</strong> statements: “I am easy to like,”“Iam 

a nice person,” “I am proud of who I am.” 

Student ratings on self-confidence are made 

on a three-point scale with answers and scores 

varying from: Not at All (0), Not Sure (1), or 

Confident (2). The range of raw scores a student 

can obtain on <strong>the</strong> Self-Image domain is 

0 – 24. The raw scores can be converted to 

standard scores. The higher <strong>the</strong> standard 

score, <strong>the</strong> more positive <strong>the</strong> rating of selfesteem 

and self-confidence is. The Lie Scale is 

used to provide validity to <strong>the</strong> SSCS responses. 

University interns and practicum students 

who volunteered to train <strong>the</strong> children utilized 

rubber bands, pencils, paper clips, paper, and 

similar types of inexpensive materials for demonstration 

of most of <strong>the</strong> magic tricks. Some 

self-working magic tricks that were purchased 

from various magic shops were also used. Specific 

tricks taught to individual children were 

determined by taking into account each 

child’s motoric and cognitive abilities. Individual 

tricks chosen were specific to what each 

child could perform successfully. Not all children 

learned and practiced <strong>the</strong> same magic 

tricks. Magic tricks were selected from David 

Copperfield’s Project Magic instruction manual 

(Copperfield, DeJean, & Plank, 1982), from 

several magic shops, and from various Internet 

sites. 

Procedure 


At <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> semester, researchers 

explained <strong>the</strong> research study to university exceptional 

education seniors who were in <strong>the</strong>ir 

final student teaching semester and university 

exceptional education juniors who were involved 

in practicum field experiences. Senior 

interns and junior practicum students were 

teaching at various public schools in <strong>the</strong> 

county. From <strong>the</strong>se two groups, ten university 

students volunteered to learn various magic 

tricks and teach <strong>the</strong>m to children who were in 

<strong>the</strong>ir classrooms during <strong>the</strong> semester term. 

University students were trained to perform 

various magic tricks. They were also trained to 

administer <strong>the</strong> Self-Image dimension of <strong>the</strong> 

Self-Confidence domain of <strong>the</strong> Student Self- 

Concept Scale (SSCS) instrument. University 

students were given careful directions concerning 

reading aloud test items for children 

with lower reading abilities to be certain <strong>the</strong> 

children completely understood <strong>the</strong> questions. 

Permission from <strong>the</strong> principal was secured 

at each of <strong>the</strong> university student’s school site. 

Parental consent letters were sent home asking 

for voluntary participation. Parental consent 

to become part of <strong>the</strong> research study was 

obtained for 26 children. After receiving <strong>the</strong> 

appropriate parental and school consent, university 

students and researchers administered 

<strong>the</strong> Self-Confidence dimension of <strong>the</strong> Self-Image 

domain to <strong>the</strong> children as a pre-test measure. 

Children were taught various magic tricks 

that were individually chosen based on <strong>the</strong>ir 

physical and cognitive capabilities. When presenting 

and teaching <strong>the</strong> magic tricks to <strong>the</strong> 

children, university students were required to 

explicitly follow procedures and guidelines established 

by <strong>the</strong> researchers. University students 

were required to emphasize to <strong>the</strong> child 

<strong>the</strong> importance of upholding <strong>the</strong> magician’s 

pledge not to share <strong>the</strong> secret of <strong>the</strong> magic 

trick after <strong>the</strong> performance. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, 

university students conveyed to <strong>the</strong> “future 

child magician” that <strong>the</strong> lessons being taught

would be kept a secret so that <strong>the</strong>ir non-disabled 

peers would not know how <strong>the</strong>y learned 

to perform <strong>the</strong> various magic tricks. In essence, 

<strong>the</strong>y were encouraged to create a “child 

magician and grown-up magician” relationship 

where <strong>the</strong>y were <strong>the</strong> only ones holding 

<strong>the</strong> secrets to <strong>the</strong> magical effects. Each university 

student was required to role-play with 

<strong>the</strong>ir children on how to respond when o<strong>the</strong>rs 

may ask, “How did you do that?” See Table 1 

for an example of <strong>the</strong> role-play. 

University students were instructed to provide 

encouragement to <strong>the</strong> children while in 

<strong>the</strong> learning process by pretending to be 

amazed and astonished as children performed 

various magic tricks. University students and 

researchers role-played various magic trick 

scenarios and practiced <strong>the</strong>ir verbal and nonverbal 

expressions of astonishment. University 

students were even encouraged to over-exaggerate 

<strong>the</strong>ir non-verbal and verbal expressions 

of surprise by opening <strong>the</strong>ir mouths and eyes 

widely and convincingly saying “OOHS” and 

“AHHS” at <strong>the</strong> precise moment <strong>the</strong> amazing 

part of <strong>the</strong> trick was performed. 

University students were highly encouraged 

to consistently provide large, warm smiles to 

facilitate a risk-free learning environment for 

<strong>the</strong> children. In addition, university students 

were reminded to be keenly aware of <strong>the</strong> 

learning situation and to note when a magic 

trick might be too cognitively or physically 

challenging. The ultimate goal was to find 

magic tricks that could be performed with 

TABLE 1 

Role-Play Script 

ease and comfort for each individual child. 

Due to <strong>the</strong> cognitive and physical restraints of 

a few children in <strong>the</strong> study, university students 

used self-working magic tricks in order to increase 

<strong>the</strong> children’s performance success. 

Self-working magic tricks are tricks that involve 

<strong>the</strong> use of magic prompts, which can be 

purchased at magic shops that have built-in 

foolproof magical effects. One example of a 

self-working magic trick is a magic coloring 

book that has special tabbed pages that will 

show uncolored pages, <strong>the</strong>n colored pages, 

and <strong>the</strong>n blank pages depending on <strong>the</strong> placement 

of your hand when flipping <strong>the</strong> pages. 

There were no set criteria on <strong>the</strong> number of 

tricks that were to be sleight-of-hand and eyehand 

coordinating activities versus self-working 

ones. In addition, no overall total number 

of magic tricks was required for each child to 

perform in order to be considered successful. 

Upon learning each trick, <strong>the</strong> child practiced 

with <strong>the</strong> university student until it was determined 

that he/she had learned <strong>the</strong> magic 

trick correctly. 

Because each magic trick was individually 

selected based on <strong>the</strong> cognitive and physical 

appropriateness for <strong>the</strong> child, success was determined 

based on <strong>the</strong> individual situation. 

While learning <strong>the</strong> magic trick, children were 

given opportunity to practice performing <strong>the</strong> 

magic trick in front of a life-sized puppet to 

get <strong>the</strong> sense of presenting in front of an 

audience. Children were also given opportunity 

to practice performing <strong>the</strong>ir magic trick 

University Student (to child magician): 

“When a person asks you how you did <strong>the</strong> magic trick, you should never tell <strong>the</strong>m because <strong>the</strong> magic trick 

will lose its surprise! Let’s practice some things you can say if someone wants to know how you did a 

trick.” 

Puzzled Audience Member—role-played by university student (to child magician): 

“How did you do that?” 

Child Magician (to puzzled audience member): 

“With great skill and I hope you liked it.” 

Puzzled Audience Member—role-played by university student (to child magician): 

“Please tell me <strong>the</strong> secret.” 

Child Magician (to <strong>the</strong> puzzled audience member): 

“One of a magician’s rules is that I should never tell.” 

(For children magicians with higher cognitive abilities, could add: “If you really want to learn, you can 

check out magic books from <strong>the</strong> library or visit magic shops.”) 

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. / 445

in front of a large mirror to get <strong>the</strong> perspective 

of what <strong>the</strong> audience would be seeing. 

After <strong>the</strong> university student noted <strong>the</strong> child 

had accomplished <strong>the</strong> magic trick being 

taught at <strong>the</strong> time, ei<strong>the</strong>r in <strong>the</strong> child’s presentation 

to <strong>the</strong>m or in front of <strong>the</strong> puppet 

and/or mirror, success was individually determined 

based on two factors. First, <strong>the</strong> child 

was observed to determine if he/she demonstrated 

<strong>the</strong> magic trick successfully with ease 

and without revealing <strong>the</strong> secret, thus producing 

<strong>the</strong> desired magical effect. Once <strong>the</strong> first 

factor of success was met, <strong>the</strong> second factor for 

success was determined by asking <strong>the</strong> child, 

“How do you feel you performed this magic 

trick?” If <strong>the</strong> child expressed feelings of being 

successful, <strong>the</strong> university student provided 

positive specific praise and <strong>the</strong>n proceeded to 

teach <strong>the</strong> child ano<strong>the</strong>r trick. Once <strong>the</strong> child 

was successful with several magic tricks and 

had gained confidence in his/her presentation 

skills, he/she was given <strong>the</strong> opportunity 

to perform for <strong>the</strong> preschool and kindergarten 

classes at <strong>the</strong>ir school. Toward <strong>the</strong> end of 

<strong>the</strong> semester, <strong>the</strong> child was given <strong>the</strong> opportunity 

to perform for his/her non-disabled 

peers in a small or large group setting. The 

university student’s judgment of success, combined 

with <strong>the</strong> confirmation from <strong>the</strong> child, 

determined <strong>the</strong> overall outcome. At <strong>the</strong> end 

of <strong>the</strong> semester, university students and researchers 

administered <strong>the</strong> Self-Confidence 

dimension of <strong>the</strong> Self-Image domain as a posttest 

measure. University students were asked 

by <strong>the</strong> researchers to submit general narrative 

feedback on <strong>the</strong> success or lack of success of 

<strong>the</strong> research project. 

Results 

Pre/post measures from <strong>the</strong> SSCS were analyzed 

using a 2-sample dependent t test. Results 

yielded significant differences in all 

groups (males and female) between pre- and 

post-test scores on <strong>the</strong> Self-Image dimension 

of <strong>the</strong> Self-Confidence domain on <strong>the</strong> SSCS, 

t(25) 13.992, p .001. A 2-sample dependent 

t test conducted on pre/post measures 

from <strong>the</strong> SSCS indicated significant differences 

for <strong>the</strong> male group and female group 

respectively, t(16) 11.476, p .001; t(8) 

8.115, p .001 (see Table 2). 

Of <strong>the</strong> 26 participants, 17 were male; nine 

TABLE 2 

Descriptive Statistics of Pre- and Post-test 

of Self-Confidence 

were female. Seventy-one percent, 12 of <strong>the</strong> 17 

male children, had significant increases in 

self-confidence compared to sixty-six percent, 

six of <strong>the</strong> nine female participants. Sixty-nine 

percent, 18 of <strong>the</strong> 26 children, had significant 

increases in self-confidence after learning, 

practicing, and performing <strong>the</strong> simple magic 

tricks. 

All of <strong>the</strong> children who ranked <strong>the</strong>mselves 

as “Not at All (0)” or “Not Sure (1)” on <strong>the</strong> 

pre-test on <strong>the</strong> following items: “I am proud of 

who I am,” I am fun to be with,”“I am a happy 

person,” ranked <strong>the</strong>mselves as “Confident 

(2)” on <strong>the</strong> post-test. 


N M SD 

Males 

Pre 17 69.706 19.316 

Post 17 85.882 16.244* 

Female 

Pre 9 73.667 18.841 

Post 9 87.444 16.801* 

Total Group 

Pre 26 71.077 18.870 

Post 26 86.423 16.118* 

* p .001. 


Use of magic in <strong>the</strong> educational setting reported 

in professional literature is extremely 

limited, but Frith and Walker (1983) in <strong>the</strong>ir 

article in Teaching Exceptional Children, outlined 

many benefits for using magic with children 

with disabilities including <strong>the</strong> possibility 

of an increase in children’s attention span and 

motivation with an increase of self-concept 

and self-confidence being <strong>the</strong> ultimate benefit. 

This research study was designed to examine 

whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> learning and presentation of 

simple magic tricks by children with various 

disabilities could increase <strong>the</strong>ir self-esteem 

and self-confidence levels. Overall, this study 

indicated that children with disabilities, after 

learning and performing magic tricks, increased 

<strong>the</strong>ir perception of self-image that included 

self-esteem and self-confidence, as

measured by pre-and post-test measures. Since 

<strong>the</strong> children in this study were taught different 

magic tricks, no deduction can be made 

on <strong>the</strong> impact of specific magic tricks on selfesteem 

and self-confidence. Therefore, a 

global analysis was made to identify consistent 

traits of magic tricks that might have attributed 

to <strong>the</strong> increased self-esteem and self-confidence. 

Each child in this study learned to do magic 

tricks that were perceived to be within <strong>the</strong> 

child’s comfort zone. Each child practiced <strong>the</strong> 

magic tricks until <strong>the</strong>y perceived <strong>the</strong>ir performance 

was successful. Each magic trick included 

a secret component that produced a 

magical effect, that when performed correctly, 

could amaze audience members. Children 

were encouraged to keep <strong>the</strong> magician’s oath 

to never share <strong>the</strong> secret component with <strong>the</strong> 

various audiences. The first audience members 

were children in pre-school and kindergarten 

classes. After <strong>the</strong> child magician built 

up his/her confidence performing for <strong>the</strong> 

younger children, he/she eventually performed 

for his/her non-disabled peers. Becoming 

a classroom magician and starring in 

classroom magic shows may have provided an 

opportunity to build confidence in classroom 

presentation skills in a fun, motivational manner. 

Increased self-esteem and self-confidence 

may be due to <strong>the</strong> success experienced in 

learning and performing magic tricks. According 

to Bunker (1991), self-esteem results by 

completing successful experiences. 

Child magicians in this study were taught 

secret moves that were only known by <strong>the</strong>m. 

Knowing <strong>the</strong>se secrets allowed <strong>the</strong> child performer 

to complete tasks that appear by most 

individuals to be impossible. In essence, <strong>the</strong> 

child magicians knew something special that 

o<strong>the</strong>rs did not know. They were <strong>the</strong> keepers of 

<strong>the</strong> secrets. Frith and Walker (1983) indicated 

that this component is <strong>the</strong> reason that magic 

has a special appeal for children with disabilities. 

The child magician knows how to do 

something that o<strong>the</strong>rs cannot immediately duplicate. 

More importantly, <strong>the</strong>y can do something 

that <strong>the</strong>y perceive could impress <strong>the</strong>ir 

peers. Children in this study had documented 

disabilities, and in <strong>the</strong> academic setting, had 

experienced repeated failures, which made 

<strong>the</strong>m lag behind <strong>the</strong>ir non-disabled peers. 

However, in <strong>the</strong> performance of magic tricks, 

<strong>the</strong> children with disabilities may have been 

perceived to have higher skills than <strong>the</strong>ir 

same-aged peers because <strong>the</strong>y knew <strong>the</strong> secret 

behind <strong>the</strong> magic trick and <strong>the</strong>ir peers did 

not. One of <strong>the</strong> child magician’s non-disabled 

peers said, “I wish I were smart enough to 

figure out how to do that!” The researchers 

feel that <strong>the</strong> knowledge of knowing <strong>the</strong> secrets 

behind <strong>the</strong> magic tricks played an important 

role in <strong>the</strong> results of this study. That knowledge 

appeared to have empowered <strong>the</strong> children 

with disabilities to perform at a perceived 

higher level than <strong>the</strong>ir peers because 

<strong>the</strong>ir non-disabled peers did not know <strong>the</strong> 

secret behind <strong>the</strong> magic tricks. Knowledge of 

this secret provided <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong> opportunity to 

impress <strong>the</strong>ir peers. Frith and Walker concluded 

that children with disabilities might 

even impress <strong>the</strong>mselves when performing 

various magic tricks. Having <strong>the</strong> knowledge 

that <strong>the</strong>y were performing at an impressive 

level for <strong>the</strong>ir non-disabled peers could have 

influenced <strong>the</strong>ir perception of increased selfesteem 

and self-confidence. 

Success was individually determined in each 

situation and always with <strong>the</strong> confirmation 

from <strong>the</strong> child. The researchers believe this 

confirmation of success expressed by <strong>the</strong> child 

is ano<strong>the</strong>r key element to <strong>the</strong> overall success 

of this study. Observing <strong>the</strong> child’s performance 

and making sure that <strong>the</strong> secret move 

was hidden when performed determined <strong>the</strong> 

first part of success. Regardless of <strong>the</strong> apparent 

success observed, <strong>the</strong> children were always 

asked how <strong>the</strong>y felt <strong>the</strong>y performed. In addition, 

children were never expected to perform 

magic tricks that were too difficult for <strong>the</strong>ir 

cognitive level or <strong>the</strong>ir physical ability. Because 

<strong>the</strong> magic tricks were selected based on 

<strong>the</strong> match between <strong>the</strong> child’s abilities and <strong>the</strong> 

required skills to perform <strong>the</strong> trick, success, in 

terms of technical performance, was usually 

easily accomplished. Frith and Walker (1983) 

reported that when working with magic with 

children with disabilities that, “. . .even <strong>the</strong> 

most uncoordinated child can master a substantial 

number of feats” (p. 108). However, 

technical performance was not <strong>the</strong> sole determination 

of success. The researchers wanted 

<strong>the</strong> children to reflect on <strong>the</strong> performance 

and agree that <strong>the</strong> performance was successful 

before learning ano<strong>the</strong>r trick or performing it 

in front of an audience. Having <strong>the</strong> children’s 

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. / 447

confirmation that <strong>the</strong>y personally felt <strong>the</strong>y accomplished 

a successful task may have influenced 

<strong>the</strong>ir perceived increase of self-esteem 

and self-confidence on <strong>the</strong> post-test measure. 

Verbalizing <strong>the</strong>ir successes may have caused 

an increase in <strong>the</strong>ir self-image. 

The act of performing for o<strong>the</strong>rs in front of 

<strong>the</strong> classroom may have also played a key role 

in this study. Classroom presentation skills are 

important for children to learn. Some children 

may struggle with building self-confidence 

in <strong>the</strong>ir ability to present in front of 

o<strong>the</strong>rs, particularly <strong>the</strong>ir peers. Presenting in 

front of o<strong>the</strong>rs may cause some individuals to 

be nervous and may result in <strong>the</strong> fear of making 

a mistake publicly. The magic performances 

provided an opportunity for <strong>the</strong> children 

with disabilities to practice <strong>the</strong>ir 

presentation skills and build <strong>the</strong>ir self-esteem 

and self-confidence. In this study, having success 

in presenting in front of <strong>the</strong> class may 

have attributed to <strong>the</strong> children’s perceived 

increase of self-esteem and self-confidence. 

The motivational aspect of learning <strong>the</strong> 

magic tricks appeared to have been a positive 

attraction. Children are more willing to learn 

things when presented in a fun manner. Both 

<strong>the</strong> children who performed <strong>the</strong> magic tricks 

and <strong>the</strong> children in <strong>the</strong> audiences made many 

comments that indicated <strong>the</strong>y perceived <strong>the</strong> 

magic activities as fun. Making o<strong>the</strong>rs laugh or 

express sentiments of surprise and appreciation 

of <strong>the</strong> performance may have also contributed 

to <strong>the</strong> overall fun aspect of learning 

and performing <strong>the</strong> magic tricks. Even though 

many academic objectives were combined 

with <strong>the</strong> learning of <strong>the</strong> magic tricks, <strong>the</strong> children 

with disabilities appeared to have enjoyed 

<strong>the</strong> lessons. For example, one university 

student reported that one child said, “I hope 

we use magic in all of our lessons today.” Some 

of <strong>the</strong> magic tricks were used to teach science 

and math concepts, while o<strong>the</strong>rs used objects 

in <strong>the</strong> magic for spelling and writing sentences. 

Overall, <strong>the</strong> children made positive 

comments about <strong>the</strong> magic tricks even when 

combined with academic subjects. The fun 

and motivational aspect of learning and performing 

<strong>the</strong> magic tricks may have resulted in 

<strong>the</strong> increased self-esteem and self-confidence 

reported. 

When reviewing specific items on <strong>the</strong> SSCS, 

it was noted that all of <strong>the</strong> children who 


ranked <strong>the</strong>mselves as low on <strong>the</strong> pre-test on 

<strong>the</strong> following items: “I am proud of who I am,” 

I am fun to be with,” “I am a happy person,” 

ranked <strong>the</strong>mselves as high on <strong>the</strong> same three 

items on <strong>the</strong> post-test. The researchers concluded 

that learning and performing magic 

tricks might have caused <strong>the</strong>se particular children 

to perceive <strong>the</strong>mselves as being fun, 

happy, and proud. Upon ano<strong>the</strong>r review, 

some of <strong>the</strong> questions appeared to be unfair 

for children in <strong>the</strong> study who used wheelchairs, 

such as “I can jump as high and as far 

as my classmates,” and “I can run as fast as 

o<strong>the</strong>r kids my age.” One child reported on <strong>the</strong> 

post-test measure, “I couldn’t jump when you 

asked me <strong>the</strong> first time and I still can’t jump 

today.” 

An abundance of comments from university 

students reported that children were highly 

motivated to learn <strong>the</strong> magic tricks. One university 

student reported that on <strong>the</strong> first day of 

working with her student who was classified as 

Trainable Mentally Handicapped (TMH) and 

who also used a wheelchair for mobility, was so 

impressed with <strong>the</strong> magic tricks that he continued 

throughout <strong>the</strong> day coming up to her 

with specific requests to, “Show me more 

magic!” Ano<strong>the</strong>r university student commented 

that after <strong>the</strong> child magician performed 

for younger children, <strong>the</strong> child magician 

was so thrilled, and in her words was 

“booming with confidence and satisfaction.” 

The researchers noted that university students 

appeared to be equally motivated to teach 

magic tricks to children. Excitement conveyed 

from <strong>the</strong> grown up magicians may have positively 

influenced <strong>the</strong> children’s excitement 

and motivation. 

It is important to also note that <strong>the</strong> “child 

magician” did not reveal <strong>the</strong> secrets behind 

<strong>the</strong> magical effects and also did not share how 

<strong>the</strong>y learned <strong>the</strong> magic tricks. The researchers 

did not want to draw attention to <strong>the</strong> fact that 

<strong>the</strong> children were receiving special magic lessons. 

Sharing this fact may have taken away 

much-earned credit from <strong>the</strong> child magician 

and may have caused <strong>the</strong> audiences to be less 

impressed. 

Children in this study were provided ample 

opportunities that resulted in successful experiences. 

According to Bunker (1991), “Children 

acquire self-confidence and self-esteem 

as a result of successful experiences” (p. 467).

In a study conducted by Cast and Burke 

(2002), <strong>the</strong>y concluded that self-esteem serves 

as a personal resource that can be used when 

a person goes through stressful times. They 

also report that self-esteem can be “both built 

up and depleted” (p. 1045). If learning and 

performing magic tricks foster <strong>the</strong> building up 

of self-esteem and self-confidence, <strong>the</strong>n perhaps, 

<strong>the</strong> self-esteem “resource” could be used 

during stressful academic times. 

All children, including children with disabilities, 

need to be empowered, feel good 

about <strong>the</strong>mselves and increase <strong>the</strong>ir self-esteem 

and self-confidence, which in turn can 

increase <strong>the</strong>ir motivation to try harder and 

take more risks, both personally and academically. 

Children need to recognize that <strong>the</strong>y 

have more ability to accomplish things than 

<strong>the</strong>y may realize. Basically, <strong>the</strong> more children 

believe in <strong>the</strong>ir abilities and are motivated to 

apply <strong>the</strong>mselves, <strong>the</strong> more apt <strong>the</strong>y are to be 

successful in <strong>the</strong>ir endeavors. 

Making global inferences based on results 

of this study would not be appropriate, yet <strong>the</strong> 

findings are significant in <strong>the</strong> quest to find 

ways to increase children with disabilities’ selfesteem 

and self-confidence. Any activity that 

shows optimism in increasing self-esteem and 

self-confidence in children should be explored. 

Having children with disabilities learn 

and perform magic tricks may hold great 

promise in increasing <strong>the</strong>ir self-image including 

self-esteem and self-confidence. Since 

<strong>the</strong>se personal attributes are highly valued, 

efforts should be made to provide opportunities 

that will enhance <strong>the</strong> probability of success 

in increasing one’s self-esteem and selfconfidence. 

Based on this study, having 

children with disabilities learn and perform 

magic tricks in <strong>the</strong> educational setting should 

be explored as a promising approach to help 

<strong>the</strong>m attain higher self-esteem and self-confidence. 

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Application of Computer Simulation to Teach ATM Access to 

Individuals with Intellectual Disabilities 

Daniel K. Davies and Steven E. Stock 

AbleLink Technologies, Inc. 

Michael L. Wehmeyer 


Abstract: This study investigates use of computer simulation for teaching ATM use to adults with intellectual 

disabilities. ATM-SIM is a computer-based trainer used for teaching individuals with intellectual disabilities 

how to use an automated teller machine (ATM) to access <strong>the</strong>ir personal bank accounts. In <strong>the</strong> pilot evaluation, 

a prototype system was developed and used to train nine adults with intellectual disabilities how to use a local 

ATM. Participants were pre-tested on <strong>the</strong>ir ability to use an ATM and <strong>the</strong>n were trained using <strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM 

prototype. After a brief training period, participants were again tested on <strong>the</strong>ir capacity to operate <strong>the</strong> actual 

ATM. Results demonstrate preliminary evidence that computer simulation can be used effectively to teach a 

specific independent living skill to adults with mental retardation. Participants required significantly fewer help 

prompts and made fewer errors when operating <strong>the</strong> real ATM after ATM-SIM training. Potential for electronic 

and information technologies to promote community inclusion was discussed. 

Money management skills are frequently identified 

as critical to ensuring community inclusion 

for people with intellectual disabilities 

(Alper & Ryndak, 2003; Browder & Grasso, 

1999; Wehmeyer, Sands, Knowlton, & 

Kozleski, 2002). In <strong>the</strong> past, efforts to teach 

money management skills focused on traditional 

methods of dealing with financial resources: 

using cash (Schloss, Kobza, & Alper, 

1997; Stith & Fishbein, 1996), maintaining a 

This article is based upon work supported by <strong>the</strong> 

U.S. Department of Education under contract 

#RN92158020. Any opinions, findings, conclusions 

or recommendations expressed in this publication 

are those of <strong>the</strong> author and do not necessarily reflect 

<strong>the</strong> views or policies of <strong>the</strong> Department of 

Education. The opportunity to interview living skills 

instructors and case managers was critical to <strong>the</strong> 

success of this project. The professional staff of 

Cheyenne Village, Inc. was instrumental in helping 

develop an ATM-SIM prototype that could be used 

effectively by individuals with mental retardation. In 

addition, <strong>the</strong> coordination effort required to meet 

with all of <strong>the</strong> counselors and subjects was no small 

challenge. The excellent support provided by all 

Cheyenne Village staff members involved in this 

project was greatly appreciated. Correspondence 

concerning this article should be addressed to 

Daniel K. Davies, AbleLink Technologies, Inc., 528 

North Tejon Street, Suite 100, Colorado Springs, 

CO 80903-1158. 



checking account and register (Asha & Nolet, 

1995), and interacting with a bank (Borbeau, 

Sowers, & Close, 1986; McDonnel & Ferguson, 

1989). While <strong>the</strong>se skills are still relevant, financial 

and money management skills required 

today have expanded considerably. 

Debit and cash cards are slowly replacing 

checks and, to some degree, cash as a primary 

mode of transactions; banking online is becoming 

more prevalent; e-cash payment systems 

allow for online purchases; and <strong>the</strong> traditional 

means of interacting with banks has 

changed. Instead of going to a central bank to 

make deposits, cash checks, or withdraw 

money, bank customers now interact with 

smaller satellite branches and, even more frequently, 

automated teller machines, or ATMs. 

At an ATM, one can deposit paychecks, withdraw 

cash, make payments, check balances, 

transfer funds, place an order for new checks, 

submit a change of address, and more. Most 

automated teller machines in <strong>the</strong> United 

States are connected to one or more computer 

networks that allow access to accounts 

from virtually anywhere; hotel lobbies, gas stations, 

airports, school campuses, and more. 

Possibly more importantly, ATMs are increasingly 

being used for non-banking transactions. 

For example, Seafirst Bank of Seattle pioneered 

vending of stamps through its ATMs 

ATM Access / 451

and has begun selling o<strong>the</strong>r items, such as bus 

tickets. More and more basic services are offered 

via ATMs. 

Benefits for people with mental retardation 

learning how to use ATMs seem fairly selfevident. 

Generally, people with intellectual 

disabilities who live or work in <strong>the</strong> community 

are within walking distance of grocery and 

convenience stores and, in most parts of <strong>the</strong> 

country, ATMs are standard equipment in 

those establishments. Teaching people with 

intellectual disabilities to use ATMs can increase 

access to personal bank accounts and 

to <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r services that are available through 

ATMs now and which will be in <strong>the</strong> future. 

There has been only one reported effort to 

teach a person with mental retardation to use 

an ATM or, more accurately, an automated 

banking machine. Shafer, Inge, and Hill 

(1986) showed that an adult with mental retardation 

could learn skills to use an automated 

bank machine to make deposits. Shafer 

and colleagues noted that <strong>the</strong>re were several 

advantages to using this means of interacting 

with <strong>the</strong> bank, including 24-hour access, proximity 

to work and home, and <strong>the</strong> fact that 

bank machines had fairly stable routines that 

could facilitate generalization. While this may 

be less true for ATMs today, it is true that basic 

features of ATM use are often replicable 

across machines, from having <strong>the</strong> machine 

read <strong>the</strong> magnetic stripe on <strong>the</strong> card (typically 

by inserting <strong>the</strong> card into a slot or by swiping 

<strong>the</strong> card along a reader), to punching in a 

password and amounts (usually on a number 

pad), to removing cash or submitting <strong>the</strong> envelope 

for deposit, to taking <strong>the</strong> receipt. 

There are enough similarities in this process 

that some people with mental retardation 

might be able to learn <strong>the</strong> basic steps and 

apply <strong>the</strong>m to various machines. 

Typically, teaching a person to perform 

community-based activities is done by instructing 

<strong>the</strong> person in ecologically-valid environments. 

Thus, teaching a person with mental 

retardation to shop for groceries would occur 

at <strong>the</strong> grocery store that <strong>the</strong> person might 

typically access. This approach is often impractical 

as a means to teach ATM use for <strong>the</strong> 

primary reason that public ATMs are not intended 

for <strong>the</strong> type of training required by 

individuals with intellectual disabilities. In 

fact, many ATMs will not return <strong>the</strong> ATM card 


if repeated errors are made in accessing <strong>the</strong> 

system, as is likely in a training situation. Thus, 

while ‘simulated learning settings’ may not be 

optimal for many training purposes, <strong>the</strong>re are 

circumstances under which it may be <strong>the</strong> preferred 

option. Shafer et al. (1986) used a simulated 

banking machine to teach use of <strong>the</strong> 

automated banking machine to a person with 

mental retardation, but that machine was simpler 

and easier to reproduce than today’s electronic 

versions of ATMs. 

Simulation has been used effectively in 

many settings to teach skills that require both 

complex problem solving abilities (e.g., nuclear 

power plant operators) as well as specific 

rote tasks (e.g., switchboard operators). Recently 

<strong>the</strong> increased availability, decreased 

cost, and emerging technological advances associated 

with computers have made computer 

simulation a viable alternative teaching 

method in a variety of settings. As a result, 

computer simulation has been used increasingly 

as a cost-effective alternative to actual 

hands-on training. Davies and Hamel (1985) 

reviewed benefits of using computer simulation 

for training. These include low-cost, ability 

to tailor training to individual needs, “cognitive” 

fidelity, and provision of a “safe” 

environment for training. These benefits apply 

directly to <strong>the</strong> population of individuals 

with intellectual disabilities. 

Ensuring transfer of skills acquired through 

use of <strong>the</strong> simulator to community settings has 

long been recognized as essential for assessing 

effectiveness of training in <strong>the</strong> simulated environment. 

For example, Bates (1980) found 

that for social-skills trained in a simulated setting, 

experimental group scores that were significantly 

higher in <strong>the</strong> simulated setting were 

not observed in <strong>the</strong> “real world” environment. 

Clearly, <strong>the</strong> final measure of effectiveness of 

simulation training cannot be determined until 

<strong>the</strong> skill is evaluated in <strong>the</strong> community setting. 

Computer simulation offers potential for 

utilizing technology as an adjunct training 

method to enhance skill-training for people 

with intellectual disabilities. With more complex 

technology, such as ATMs, in which simulations 

may need to be used in training, it is 

likely that computers can provide reasonably 

priced and realistic simulations that might 

provide for transfer of skills to community

settings. Innovative application of computer 

simulation and multimedia can help train specific 

tasks thus enabling individuals with intellectual 

disabilities to acquire <strong>the</strong> necessary 

skills for successful independent living. Automation 

and effective training techniques, for 

example, computer simulation, are both ways 

of using technology to increase <strong>the</strong> opportunity 

for individuals with intellectual disabilities 

to learn and master key skills necessary to 

achieve increased levels of residential independence 

(Davies, 1992). 

To test this, we evaluated <strong>the</strong> prototype of a 

simulation-based trainer for teaching individuals 

with intellectual disability how to use an 

ATM. Specific aims of this pilot project were 

to research <strong>the</strong> applicability of computer simulation 

techniques for training a specific skill 

necessary to increase community access for 

individuals with intellectual disabilities. Evaluation 

was based on <strong>the</strong> key requirement to 

assess performance as measured on actual 

ATM use ra<strong>the</strong>r than only on success of <strong>the</strong> 

simulated task. The basic hypo<strong>the</strong>sis for this 

study was that <strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM system will be 

effective for teaching individuals with intellectual 

disabilities how to use an ATM and that 

<strong>the</strong>se skills will be transferable to <strong>the</strong> community 

setting. 

Device Design 

ATM-SIM is designed as a multimedia training 

tool that provides individuals with intellectual 

disabilities step-by-step instructions for learning 

how to use an ATM. Each step in <strong>the</strong> 

process, from entering <strong>the</strong> ATM card, keying 

in an access code, selecting <strong>the</strong> desired transaction 

and completing <strong>the</strong> transaction was 

simulated on <strong>the</strong> computer and presented to 

<strong>the</strong> user with step-by-step visual and audio 

cues. Users interacted with <strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM system 

using a touch screen similar to actual 

operation of an ATM. Each button and displayed 

message from a local ATM in <strong>the</strong> PLUS 

system of ATMs was incorporated into <strong>the</strong> 

ATM-SIM system. Users were guided through 

each step of a desired transaction via computer 

generated audio instructions and by visually 

highlighting <strong>the</strong> buttons that needed to 

be pressed. For example, a session could be 

configured to guide <strong>the</strong> user through <strong>the</strong> process 

of taking $10.00 from a checking account. 

As <strong>the</strong> user stepped through <strong>the</strong> process, <strong>the</strong> 

system presented specific instructions to follow 

and <strong>the</strong>n monitored whe<strong>the</strong>r correct options 

were selected on <strong>the</strong> simulator. If incorrect 

choices were made (e.g., selecting savings 

account instead of checking account), feedback 

was provided to guide <strong>the</strong> user to correct 

<strong>the</strong> action and continue following <strong>the</strong> correct 

path. At <strong>the</strong> end of a successful session, <strong>the</strong> 

simulator would provide a simple animation 

of <strong>the</strong> money coming out of <strong>the</strong> ATM and 

would <strong>the</strong>n remind <strong>the</strong> user to take <strong>the</strong> money 

as well as <strong>the</strong> ATM card before leaving <strong>the</strong> 

machine. Through this process, users could 

practice performing various transactions and 

experience success with <strong>the</strong> simulator without 

<strong>the</strong> anxiety associated with learning in a community 

setting on a real ATM. 

Method 

Participants 

Study participants were adult volunteers with 

intellectual disabilities receiving supports 

from a community-based agency. A total of 

nine participants were identified who were 

appropriate to participate, based on <strong>the</strong>ir classification 

as having mental retardation and 

based on <strong>the</strong> potential that <strong>the</strong>y could understand 

certain aspects of <strong>the</strong> transaction (e.g., 

basic money skills). Ages of participants 

ranged from 25 to 58 years, with a mean of 

35.8 years of age. There were five males and 

four females in <strong>the</strong> study group. Intelligence 

quotient scores (using <strong>the</strong> WAIS-R) ranged 

from 56 to 72, with an average score of 65.1. 

Informed consent was obtained from all participants 

prior to beginning <strong>the</strong> study, and 

each participant was paid $20.00 for <strong>the</strong>ir involvement 

in <strong>the</strong> study. All study data was kept 

confidential and was traceable to individuals 

by study ID number only. 

Procedure 

The pilot study used a within-subjects design. 

Participants were pre-tested on <strong>the</strong>ir ability to 

operate an ATM after a single demonstration 

at an ATM. The frequency with which participants 

made errors while trying to withdraw 

money from an ATM pre- and post-intervention 

(e.g., before and after training on <strong>the</strong> 

ATM Access / 453

ATM-SIM) and <strong>the</strong> number of prompts 

needed by <strong>the</strong> person to accomplish <strong>the</strong> transaction 

were <strong>the</strong> dependent variables for <strong>the</strong> 

study. 

Prior to beginning <strong>the</strong> training on <strong>the</strong> ATM- 

SIM, each study participant was taken to an 

ATM. The process for withdrawing $10.00 

from a checking account was demonstrated to 

<strong>the</strong> participant. After that demonstration, 

each person was asked to perform <strong>the</strong> same 

task. Number of help prompts required by <strong>the</strong> 

participant and number of errors made trying 

to perform <strong>the</strong> task were recorded. Participants 

were given all <strong>the</strong> help <strong>the</strong>y needed to 

successfully perform <strong>the</strong> task to ensure that 

each person’s experience was a positive one, 

even if he or she couldn’t operate <strong>the</strong> ATM 

without help. After this initial attempt, participants 

were provided support to complete 

training using <strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM. Training was performed 

in a conference room at <strong>the</strong> agency’s 

headquarters, a location familiar to all participants. 

Each person was trained between 20 

and 45 minutes using <strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM depending 

upon how quickly he or she reached mastery. 

Criterion level of performance for mastery 

was correct operation of <strong>the</strong> simulated 

ATM three times without making any unrecoverable 

errors. An unrecoverable error was defined 

as an error that would not have been 

correctable without starting over on <strong>the</strong> real 

ATM. For example, choosing <strong>the</strong> wrong account 

to withdraw cash from was an unrecoverable 

error because <strong>the</strong> user would have to 

cancel <strong>the</strong> process and start over to get back to 

<strong>the</strong> right account. Entering <strong>the</strong> incorrect dollar 

amount initially was not an unrecoverable 

error as <strong>the</strong> system allows <strong>the</strong> user to change 

<strong>the</strong> dollar amount after it has been entered. In 

addition to correct operation for three times, 

<strong>the</strong> user was required to operate <strong>the</strong> ATM 

simulator correctly without voice instructions 

and feedback. For this part of <strong>the</strong> training, <strong>the</strong> 

digital voice messages were turned off. This 

provided <strong>the</strong> most realistic simulation of device 

operation, as <strong>the</strong>re were no voice instructions 

provided by <strong>the</strong> real ATM. After participants 

completed <strong>the</strong>ir training session, <strong>the</strong>y 

were taken back to <strong>the</strong> real ATM. They were 

<strong>the</strong>n requested to use <strong>the</strong> machine to withdraw 

$10.00 from a checking account. Again, 

number of help prompts required were recorded 

as well as number of errors made in 

performing <strong>the</strong> transaction. In both <strong>the</strong> preand 

post-intervention data collection periods, 

participants kept <strong>the</strong> $10.00 withdrawal and 

each received <strong>the</strong> full $20.00 for participating. 

Data Analysis 

Data were analyzed using SPSS. Pre and postintervention 

frequency of errors and prompts 

were analyzed using Sandler’s A statistic. This 

test is derived from student’s t ratio and is 

appropriate for testing mean differences 

when correlated samples are used. Mean differences 

in errors and help prompts were 

tested for significance at <strong>the</strong> .05 level with a 

one-directional test. 

Results 

There were significant differences between 

<strong>the</strong> pre-test and post-test scores for both of <strong>the</strong> 

dependent measures. Figure 1 presents <strong>the</strong> 

mean comparisons for <strong>the</strong> pre-test and posttest 

conditions. In <strong>the</strong> pre-test condition, 

<strong>the</strong>re were an average of 5.88 help prompts 

required for participants when trying to take 

$10.00 out of a checking account using <strong>the</strong> 

ATM. In <strong>the</strong> post-test condition <strong>the</strong> average 

number of prompts required dropped to 2.11. 

This difference was significant (p .003). In 

<strong>the</strong> pre-test condition <strong>the</strong>re were an average 

of 6.11 errors out of a total possible of 11. 

After ATM-SIM training participants were able 

to perform <strong>the</strong> task at a much higher proficiency 

level as indicated by <strong>the</strong> very small 

number of errors that were observed in <strong>the</strong> 

post-test condition (M errors 0.99). This 

difference was also significant (p .001). 



Results of this study provide preliminary support 

for <strong>the</strong> hypo<strong>the</strong>sis that computer simulation 

and multimedia can be effectively used to 

teach adults with intellectual disabilities to use 

an automated teller machine. Training on <strong>the</strong> 

ATM-SIM successfully improved <strong>the</strong> proficiency 

level of nine adults that were trained 

how to use an ATM in <strong>the</strong> community. Adults 

with disabilities made fewer errors and required 

less assistance after having completed 

<strong>the</strong> computer-based ATM-SIM training. This 

pilot study demonstrates technical merit and

Figure 1. Mean comparisons for pre-test and post-test conditions. 

feasibility of using computer simulation and 

multimedia for teaching independent living 

skills. 

These results must be considered preliminary 

as <strong>the</strong> research scope and time available 

for evaluation was quite limited in this project. 

Moreover, <strong>the</strong> small sample size and lack of a 

control group or condition limits <strong>the</strong> generalizability 

of <strong>the</strong>se findings. A number of issues 

(in addition to larger sample sizes and control 

group designs) should be addressed in subsequent 

research. For example, <strong>the</strong> longer-term 

impact of this training approach on <strong>the</strong> ability 

for participants to maintain this skill over time 

must be assessed. The study period did not 

provide sufficient time to assess how well participants 

will be able to perform <strong>the</strong> skill as 

time passes between training sessions and actual 

operation of <strong>the</strong> ATM in <strong>the</strong> community 

setting. Overall, however, preliminary results 

were very encouraging. 

One of <strong>the</strong> more interesting observations 

during <strong>the</strong> study was that every one of <strong>the</strong> 

participants, without exception, seemed to 

thoroughly enjoy operating <strong>the</strong> ATM-SIM program. 

Participants did not want to stop <strong>the</strong>ir 

interaction with <strong>the</strong> program, regardless of 

<strong>the</strong>ir skill level. Participants were able to learn 

<strong>the</strong> task very quickly and wanted to retry <strong>the</strong> 

ATM simulator repeatedly. Similarly, participants 

who were slower at learning <strong>the</strong> task did 

not want to quit. The opportunity to experience 

success with <strong>the</strong> computer simulation 

appeared to be personally rewarding. One of 

<strong>the</strong> agency support staff observed that <strong>the</strong> 

ATM-SIM system seemed to have a positive 

effect on self-esteem for some of <strong>the</strong> study 

participants. The ability to participate in 

“computer technology” was viewed as a very 

desirable thing for <strong>the</strong>se persons who, for <strong>the</strong> 

most part, have been left behind by <strong>the</strong> computer 

revolution. The high level of motivation 

ATM Access / 455

on <strong>the</strong> part of <strong>the</strong> participants may have contributed 

to <strong>the</strong>ir success at learning <strong>the</strong> task at 

hand. This study adds to findings from similar 

studies we have conducted using various electronic 

and information technologies (Davies, 

Stock, & Wehmeyer, 2001, 2002a, 2002b) with 

people with intellectual disabilities to support 

a wide array of activities (time management, 

scheduling, vocational task completion) that 

result in increased community inclusion and 

integration. The role of computer simulations 

to enhance such inclusion warrants fur<strong>the</strong>r 

consideration. 

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Baltimore: Paul H. Brookes.

INDEX—VOLUME 38, 2003 

AUTHORS 

Anderson, Holly. See Hourcade, Jack J. .... 398 

Arthur, Michael. Socio-communicative variables 

and behavior states in students with 

profound and multiple disabilities: Descriptive 

data from school settings ............ 200 

Bak, SunHi. See Lee, SoHyun ............. 157 

Balboni, Giulia. See Spencer, Vicky G. ...... 32 

Barnhill, Gena P. See Myles, Brenda Smith . . . 362 

Batterman, Nancy. See Certo, Nicholas J. . . . 3 

Browder, Diane M. Consideration of what may 

influence student outcomes on alternate assessment 

.............................. 255 

Bui, Yvonne Nguyen. East meets west: Analysis 

of person-centered planning in <strong>the</strong> context 

of Asian American values ............ 18 

Certo, Nicholas J. Review and discussion of a 

model for seamless transition to adulthood 3 

Chen, Li-Ju. Transition services in Taiwan: 

Comparison between service need and services 

received .......................... 334 

Conroy, James W. See Spreat, Scott ....... 121 

Davies, Daniel K. Application of computer simulation 

to teach ATM access to individuals 

with intellectual disabilities ............... 451 

Davies, Daniel K. Utilization of computer technology 

to facilitate money management by 

individuals with mental retardation ........ 106 

Davies, Sara. Computer technology in clinical 

psychology services for people with mental 

retardation: A review .................... 341 

Davis, Stephanie. See Browder, Diane M. . . . 255 

Embregts, Petri J. C. M. Using self-management, 

video feedback, and graphic feedback 

to improve social behavior of youth with mild 

mental retardation ...................... 283 

Ezell, Dan. Impact of portfolio assessment on 

locus of control of students with and without 

disabilities ............................. 220 

Ezell, Dan. M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. .......... 441 

Fallin, Kathy. See Browder, Diane M. ....... 255 

Fletcher, Kathryn L. See Scott, Marcia Strong 167 

Garcia, Lori A. See Menchetti, Bruce M. .... 145 

Gast, David L. See Mechling, Linda C. ..... 62 

Gillespie, Mike. Cardiovascular fitness of 

young Canadian children with and without 

mental retardation ...................... 293 

Goeke, Jennifer L. Parents speak out: Facial 

plastic surgery for children with Down syndrome 

................................. 323 

Griswold, Deborah E. See Myles, Brenda 

Smith ................................. 362 

Hagiwara, Taku. See Myles, Brenda Smith .... 362 

Haring, Kathryn A. See Lovett, David L. ..... 370 

Hastings, Richard P. See Davies, Sara ...... 341 

Heck, Ronald H. See Noonan, Mary Jo ..... 113 

Hetzroni, Orit E. Effects of a positive support 

approach to enhance communicative behaviors 

of children with mental retardation who 

have challenging behaviors .............. 95 

Hourcade, Jack J. Accountability in collaboration: 

A framework for evaluation .......... 398 

Hourcade, Jack J. See Parette, Phil ........ 429 

Huang, Tzu-Ai. See Yang, Nancy Kueifen . . . 405 

Huer, Mary Blake. See Parette, Phil ......... 429 

Huggins, Abigail. See Myles, Brenda Smith 362 

Joseph, Laurice M. Comparison of a word 

study phonics technique between students 

with moderate to mild mental retardation and 

struggling readers without disabilities ..... 192 

Karvonen, Meagan. See Browder, Diane M. .... 255 

Klein, Colleen. See Ezell, Dan ............. 220 

Klein-Ezell, Colleen E. See Ezell, Dan ....... 441 

Knight, Melissa G. Constant time delay and 

interspersal of known items to teach sight 

words to students with mental retardation 

and learning disabilities ................. 179 

Kozub, Francis M. Explaining physical activity 

in individuals with mental retardation: An exploratory 

study ......................... 302 

Lee, SoHyun. Characteristics of friendships 

between children with and without mild disabilities 

................................ 157 

Lovett, David L. Family perceptions of transitions 

in early intervention ................ 370 

Luecking, Rich. See Certo, Nicholas J. ..... 3 

Mautz, Denise. See Certo, Nicholas J. ...... 3 

McCachran, Megan. See Joseph, Laurice M. 192 

McCormick, Linda. See Noonan, Mary Jo . . . 113 

INDEX–VOLUME 38, 2003 / 457

Mechling, Linda C. Multi-media instruction to 

teach grocery word associations and store 

location: A study of generalization ........ 62 

Menchetti, Bruce M. Personal employment 

outcomes of person-centered career planning 

................................... 145 

Millar, Dorothy Squatrito. Age of majority, 

transfer of rights and guardianship: Considerations 

for families and educators ....... 378 

Moberg, Sakari. Education for all in <strong>the</strong> North 

and <strong>the</strong> South: Teachers’ attitudes towards 

inclusive education in Finland and Zambia 417 

Mostert, Mark P. Meta-analyses in mental retardation 

............................... 229 

Myles, Brenda Smith. Written language profile 

of children and youth with Asperger syndrome: 

From research to practice ........ 362 

Noonan, Mary Jo. The Co-teacher relationship 

scale: Applications for professional development 

.................................. 113 

Noyes, Dave. See Certo, Nicholas J. ....... 3 

Palmer, Susan B. See Wehmeyer, Michael L. 131 

Parette, Phil. See Hourcade, Jack J. ........ 398 

Parette, Phil. Using assistive technology focus 

groups with families across cultures ...... 429 

Perner, Darlene. See Perras, Cindy ......... 355 

Perras, Cindy. Research to practice in cognitive 

disabilities/mental retardation, Autism, 

and related disabilities .................. 355 

Pumpian, Ian. See Certo, Nicholas J. ....... 3 

Ramasamy, Rangasamy. See Knight, Melissa 

G. .................................... 179 

Reiter, Shunit. See Vogel, Gila ............. 314 

Rome-Lake, Maleia. See Myles, Brenda 

Smith ................................. 362 

Ross, Denise E. See Knight, Melissa G. ..... 179 

Roth, Tali. See Hetzroni, Orit E. ............ 95 

Sax, Caren. See Certo, Nicholas J. ......... 3 

Schaller, James L. See Yang, Nancy Kueifen 405 

Scott, Marcia Strong. Cross validating a new 

preschool screening test ................ 167 

Sharpe, Valerie. See Perras, Cindy ......... 355 

Smalley, Kim. See Certo, Nicholas J. ....... 3 

Smith, J. David. Abandoning <strong>the</strong> myth of mental 

retardation .......................... 358 

Spencer, Vicky G. Can students with mental 

retardation teach <strong>the</strong>ir peers? ............ 32 

Spreat, Scott. Analysis of mental retardation 

service provision for class members and 

non-class members ..................... 121 

Stock, Steven E. See Davies, Daniel K. ..... 451 

Stock, Steven E. See Davies, Daniel K. ..... 106 

Taylor, Ronald L. See Knight, Melissa G. .... 179 


Tekin-Iftar, Elif. Effectiveness of peer delivered 

simultaneous prompting on teaching community 

signs to students with developmental 

disabilities ............................. 77 

Tsai, Shu-Fei. See Yang, Nancy Kueifen .... 405 

Tu, Shihfen. See Scott, Marcia Strong ...... 167 

Turnbull, Anne. See Bui, Yvonne Nguyen . . . 18 

Vogel, Gila. Spiritual dimensions of bar/bat 

mitzvah ceremonies for Jewish children with 

developmental disabilities ............... 314 

Wade, Holly A. See Certo, Nicholas J. ...... 3 

Wang, Meei Huey. See Yang, Nancy Kueifen 405 

Wechsler, Jerry. See Certo, Nicholas J. ..... 3 

Wehmeyer, Michael L. Adult outcomes for students 

with cognitive disabilities three years 

after high school: The impact of self-determination 

............................... 131 

Wehmeyer, Michael L. Defining mental retardation 

and ensuring access to <strong>the</strong> general 

curriculum ............................. 271 

Wehmeyer, Michael L. See Davies, Daniel K. 451 

Wehmeyer, Michael L. See Davies, Daniel K. 106 

Yang, Nancy Kueifen. Enhancing appropriate 

social behaviors for children with Autism in 

general education classrooms: An analysis 

of six cases ............................ 405 

Yoo, SunYoung. See Lee, SoHyun .......... 157 

Zhang, Dalun. See Chen, Li-Ju ............ 334 

Zucker, Stanley H. See Perras, Cindy ....... 355 

TITLES 

Abandoning <strong>the</strong> myth of mental retardation. J. 

David Smith ........................... 358 

Accountability in collaboration: A framework for 

evaluation. Jack J. Hourcade, Phil Parette, 

and Holly Anderson .................... 398 

Adult outcomes for students with cognitive disabilities 

three years after high school: The 

impact of self-determination. Michael L. Wehmeyer 

and Susan B. Palmer ............ 131 

Age of majority, transfer of rights and guardianship: 

Considerations for families and educators. 

Dorothy Squatrito Millar ......... 378 

Analysis of mental retardation service provision 

for class members and non-class members. 

Scott Spreat and James W. Conroy ....... 121 

Application of computer simulation to teach 

ATM access to individuals with intellectual 

disabilities. Daniel K. Davies, Steven E. 

Stock, and Michael L. Wehmeyer ........ 451 

Can students with mental retardation teach 

<strong>the</strong>ir peers? Vicky G. Spencer and Giulia 

Balboni ................................ 32 

Cardiovascular fitness of young Canadian children 

with and without mental retardation. 

Mike Gillespie .......................... 293

Characteristics of friendships between children 

with and without mild disabilities. SoHyun 

Lee, SunYoung Yoo, and SunHi Bak ...... 157 

Comparison of a word study phonics technique 

between students with moderate to mild 

mental retardation and struggling readers 

without disabilities. Laurice M. Joseph and 

Megan McCachran ..................... 192 

Computer technology in clinical psychology 

services for people with mental retardation: 

A review. Sara Davies and Richard P. Hastings 

................................... 341 

Consideration of what may influence student 

outcomes on alternate assessment. Diane 

M. Browder, Kathy Fallin, Stephanie Davis, 

and Meagan Karvonen .................. 255 

Constant time delay and interspersal of known 

items to teach sight words to students with 

mental retardation and learning disabilities. 

Melissa G. Knight, Denise E. Ross, Ronald 

L. Taylor, and Rangasamy Ramasamy .... 179 

Cross validating a new preschool screening 

test. Marcia Strong Scott, Shihfen Tu, and 

Kathryn L. Fletcher ..................... 167 

Defining mental retardation and ensuring access 

to <strong>the</strong> general curriculum. Michael L. 

Wehmeyer ............................. 271 

East meets west: Analysis of person-centered 

planning in <strong>the</strong> context of Asian American 

values. Yvonne Nguyen Bui and Anne Turnbull 

................................... 18 

Education for all in <strong>the</strong> North and <strong>the</strong> South: 

Teachers’ attitudes towards inclusive education 

in Finland and Zambia. Sakari Moberg .... 417 

Effectiveness of peer delivered simultaneous 

prompting on teaching community signs to 

students with developmental disabilities. Elif 

Tekin-Iftar ............................. 77 

Effects of a positive support approach to enhance 

communicative behaviors of children 

with mental retardation who have challenging 

behaviors. Orit E. Hetzroni and Tali Roth 95 

Enhancing appropriate social behaviors for 

children with Autism in general education 

classrooms: An analysis of six cases. Nancy 

Kueifen Yang, James L. Schaller, Tzu-Ai 

Huang, Meei Huey Wang, and Shu-Fei Tsai 405 

Explaining physical activity in individuals with 

mental retardation: An exploratory study. 

Francis M. Kozub ...................... 302 

Family perceptions of transitions in early intervention. 

David L. Lovett and Kathryn A. Haring.................................... 

370 

Impact of portfolio assessment on locus of control 

of students with and without disabilities. 

Dan Ezell and Colleen Klein ............. 220 

M.A.G.I.C. W.O.R.K.S. Dan Ezell and Colleen 

E. Klein-Ezell ........................... 441 

Meta-analyses in mental retardation. Mark P. 

Mostert ................................ 229 

Multi-media instruction to teach grocery word 

associations and store location: A study of 

generalization. Linda C. Mechling and 

David L. Gast .......................... 62 

Parents speak out: Facial plastic surgery for 

children with Down syndrome. Jennifer L. 

Goeke ................................ 323 

Personal employment outcomes of personcentered 

career planning. Bruce M. 

Menchetti and Lori A. Garcia ............ 145 

Research to practice in cognitive disabilities/ 

mental retardation, Autism, and related disabilities. 

Cindy Perras, Valerie Sharpe, Darlene 

Perner, and Stanley H. Zucker ....... 355 

Review and discussion of a model for seamless 

transition to adulthood. Nicholas 

J. Certo, Denise Mautz, Ian Pumpian, Caren 

Sax, Kim Smalley, Holly A. Wade, Dave 

Noyes, Rich Luecking, Jerry Wechsler, and 

Nancy Batterman ....................... 3 

Socio-communicative variables and behavior 

states in students with profound and multiple 

disabilities: Descriptive data from school settings. 

Michael Arthur .................... 200 

Spiritual dimensions of bar/bat mitzvah ceremonies 

for Jewish children with developmental 

disabilities. Gila Vogel and Shunit 

Reiter ................................. 314 

The Co-teacher relationship scale: Applications 

for professional development. Mary Jo 

Noonan, Linda McCormick, and Ronald H. 

Heck .................................. 113 

Transition services in Taiwan: Comparison between 

service need and services received. 

Li-Ju Chen and Dalun Zhang ............ 334 

Using assistive technology focus groups with 

families across cultures. Phil Parette, Mary 

Blake Huer, and Jack J. Hourcade ....... 429 

Using self-management, video feedback, and 

graphic feedback to improve social behavior 

of youth with mild mental retardation. Petri 

J. C. M. Embregts ...................... 283 

Utilization of computer technology to facilitate 

money management by individuals with 

mental retardation. Daniel K. Davies, Steven 

E. Stock, and Michael L. Wehmeyer ...... 106 

Written language profile of children and youth 

with Asperger syndrome: From research to 

practice. Brenda Smith Myles, Abigail Huggins, 

Maleia Rome-Lake, Taku Hagiwara, 

Deborah E. Griswold, and Gena P. 

Barnhill ................................ 362 

INDEX–VOLUME 38, 2003 / 459

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(Act of August 12, 1970, Section 3685 Title 39, United States Code) 

1. Title of publication: EDUCATION AND TRAINING IN DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITIES. 2. Publication 

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price: $30 domestic; $75 institution; $79.50 foreign. 7. Location of known office of publication: The 

Council for Exceptional Children, 1110 North Glebe Road, Suite 300, Arlington, Virginia 22101. 

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publisher and editor: Publisher—The Council for Exceptional Children, 1110 North Glebe Road, Suite 

300, Arlington, Virginia 22201; Editor—Dr. Stanley H. Zucker, Special Education Program, Farmer 316, 

Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ 85287-2011. 10. Owner: The Council for Exceptional Children, 

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stockholders. [11. Not applicable.] 12. For completion by nonprofit organizations authorized to mail at 

special rates: The purpose, function, and nonprofit status of this organization and <strong>the</strong> exempt status for 

Federal Income Tax purposes have not changed during <strong>the</strong> preceding 12 months. 13. Publication 

name: EDUCATION AND TRAINING IN DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITIES. 14. Issue date for circulation 

data below: September 29, 2003. 15. Extent and nature of circulation: 

Average no. 

copies ea. issue 

for past 12 mos. 

No. of copies 

of issue nearest 

filing date 

A. Total no. copies printed 

B. Paid circulation 

6,130 5,837 

1. Sales through dealers and carriers, street vendors, and 

counter sales 

0 0 

2. Mail subscription 5,349 5,137 

C. Total paid circulation 5,349 5,137 

D. Free distribution by mail; samples, complimentary, and 

o<strong>the</strong>r free copies 

225 200 

E. Free distribution outside <strong>the</strong> mail; carriers or o<strong>the</strong>r means 0 0 

F. Total free distribution 225 200 

G. Total distribution 

H. Copies not distributed 

5,574 5,337 

1. Office use, left-over, unaccounted, spoiled after printing. 556 500 

2. Returns from news agents 0 0 

I. Total 6,130 5,837 

Percent paid and/or requested circulation 95.96% 96.25% 

16. This statement of ownership will be printed in <strong>the</strong> Vol. 38 No. 4 DEC 03 issue of this 

publication. 

17. Signature and title: 

Stanley H. Zucker Editor September 29, 2003

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