Two weeks ago I wrote about a photograph. It’s a standard class photo that shows a boy in a wheelchair seated off to the side, leaning over to get closer to his classmates. In a word, the photo says exclusion.

This stirred up a ton of controversy, and as a result, the photo went viral.

The other reason the photo went viral is because the parents spoke up, and in my experience not many do. Like our disabled children, we are trained to be compliant, to accept whatever the school offers. But these parents made a stink, not only with the school but also with the photography company. They insisted that a new photo be taken. The school, understanding that upset parents equals bad PR, eventually agreed.

Here’s the second photo.

The boy in the wheelchair is now seated on the bleachers, on the right side of the front row, in a striped shirt. This is so much better than the first photograph, right?

Well, yes and no.

This would have been an awesome photograph had it happened the first time around. And given that the child is clearly capable of sitting upright without his wheelchair, it begs the question: why wasn’t this done in the first photo? I’m sure it took some time to get the boy out of his wheelchair and seated, and more time to put him back, but in my book that time was totally well spent to create a more inclusive photo. If you are the photography company or the school principal you might not agree with me. But as the parent of a special needs child, I think a strong visual (and psychological) message of inclusion is always worth a little extra time.

But this is the second photograph, and it needs to be viewed in that context. This photo doesn’t say exclusion—which is good—but it imparts an even subtler and more insidious message. It says: in order to be included, you must act and look like us.

As the parent of an autistic child, I spend a lot of time pondering the meaning of the term high-functioning. Does it describe cognitive functioning, communication and social skills, or self-help and independence? Or some vague and undefined combination of all three?

What it boils down to for most people is how well your child on the spectrum blends into a neuro-typical world. In other words, how well do they fake being “normal?”

So let’s look at the second photo again. This is the photo the school took to “fix” the problem that it created with the first, a photo seen by people all over the world. They solved the problem of a photo that said exclusion by including the boy without his wheelchair. They made him look more “normal.”

Had this photograph been the first one, I would not be writing this post. The boy would have been included in his class photo and that would have been that. None of us would be discussing the issue. But this was the second photo, the one taken to remedy the errors that were made, intentionally or not, in the first. And the school did this by ditching the wheelchair and making the disabled boy look like every other kid.

Now the subtle message is: we will include you if you look more like us, if you act more like us. It’s YOUR job to fit in with us.

I see this happening with Katie all the time. When she learns to act more “normal,” then the powers that be will include her. When she can behave in a general ed classroom despite her sensory integration issues, then we will mainstream her—but not before.

If it’s something that truly can’t be changed, then this rule makes sense. But what if it’s something that’s arbitrary, something that could easily be altered? Chances are the special needs child will still be the one forced to adapt. Why is society not willing to at least meet these kids part way? Why not make the classroom more sensory friendly — not only for Katie, but for all children? Seriously, why not?

Am I the only one to have a problem with this?

Until next time,
Cynthia Patton