Toronto Star, January 3, 2002

Two-tier education system is a reality

By TONI ATKINSON

The corridors of this elementary school are a soft cream colour, trimmed with sleek blond wood. Built only two years ago, it's clean and filled with light. In the two-storey library, the shelves are jammed with books; a group of children huddle giggling in the sunken reading nook. There are shelves over flowing with materials and games, and row after row of computers.

My son goes to a private school in another community. "Private school" may evoke images of well-appointed classrooms and beautiful facilities, but, in truth, there is a sharp, disquieting contrast between this beautiful public school and the plain white walls at my son's school. As I think of his sparse basement classroom with its 16 small metal desks, I long for him to be here within his own community.

A teacher moves along the row of desks handing out work sheets; children scurry around her. "Sit down and pay attention," she says kindly. Unheeding, the children continue moving and I see that some go unnoticed, sifting alone staring out the windows.

I am a psychologist here to be an advocate for a child I have assessed at the request of the parents. The parents and I are meeting with the child's teachers. Our goal is to determine what can be done to ensure he will learn and to thrive.

I move to the meeting room and report my findings: The child is bright and capable, above average intellectually, with no major learning problems. He is falling behind, however, because of his difficulty concentrating and remembering. These difficulties make it hard for him to do his work. The principal and teacher nod in agreement. They've heard it before, about many other children.

The parents grow more worried. Over the last few months, they have become increasingly concerned about their son's anxieties and lack of motivation.

I am reminded of the conversation I had with my son's teacher two years ago. At the time, he was en rolled in a public school. "He doesn't finish his work, he's too chatty, he needs to work more independently." Later in the year: "He doesn't follow through with directions." My son was surviving but rapidly losing interest.

I present the strategies required to solve this other boy's problem. They can organize his work into small tasks, put him with stronger students, have him use workbooks that show the correct steps and they can teach him learning strategies. Heads nod again, but I am told it is impossible for the school to make these changes. The teacher earnestly wants it to be different. "He needs more individual attention, I need more time to teach him."

I press them again. "How can we help him?"

"We can involve the special education teacher who can help modify his workload so he has less to cope with and then move him to a quieter place in the classroom," says the principal.

This frightens the parents. It sounds to them as though the school system has given up on their son. They worry that the principal and teacher believe a solution has been found, but they believe it is a solution that will further harm their child. The teacher reinforces the school's position: "I have 29 children in my class and 12 have been identified as having special needs. I don't have time to work with each one individually."

Ten years ago, it would have been unheard of to have one in three children identified as requiring special assistance, but in to day's crowded classrooms children do not get the attention they need. In some schools, they appear to be left to mere caregivers who are not concerned with learning.

Canada has a history of educational research that proves academic achievement rises when class sizes fall. Many studies indicate the greatest benefit occurs when there are 15 students in a class.

How are we taking action on this knowledge? We are not. In Ontario, the average class is still 24 to 27 students. As a result, at the same time that substantial curriculum changes are being mandated, more children are being pushed down the dead-end path of reduced expectations and modified work.

Perfectly normal boys and girls are being labelled as "special needs" children and denied the chance to thrive because crowded classrooms have caused them to lose focus, fall behind and, in some cases, give up.

Once labelled, lower expectations are applied to these children. They drift through elementary school without gaining the foundation of academic skills needed for further learning. Crowded class rooms have spawned a Darwinian approach to education, where only children who can learn easily (and on their own) will thrive.

The meeting is over. The parents have no choice but to hire a tutor to supplement their son's education. I am relieved they are able to do so; for financial reasons, others may not have that choice.

Here in Canada, we are shocked at the spectre of a two-tier medical system that will result in health-care inequities. We have failed to notice that our educational system is already two-tiered. An equal and accessible education for all no longer exists, further widening the traditional inequities.

When I arrive home, my son sits at the kitchen table, practising lists of words. He diligently writes out full sentences and carefully proceeds to practise trials that his teacher has set up for him. He proudly shows me a story he has written. I am impressed by the guides his teacher has provided that have enabled him to do it so well. It is evident that his teacher has had time to demonstrate organizational strategies.

In this light, those white walls don't seem so bleak. And while his classroom may be sparse, it is rich in learning and, more important, opportunity.

Toni Atkinson is a clinical psychologist in Markham, Ont.