A study comparing the way undergraduate textbooks on adapted physical education and autistic self-advocates discuss autism shows there's a major disconnect between the two.
As these textbooks often play a large part in shaping the perspectives and knowledge of future educators and practitioners, the researchers highlight a need to re-evaluate these materials to cultivate more inclusive, supportive environments for all students.
"Textbooks are often the first introduction for many people into a certain field or a certain area," says An Nguyen, lead author of the study published in the journal Quest.
Nguyen, who led the study as part of her master's thesis under the supervision of Danielle Peers, initially had the goal of combining the two sets of information to create a resource that could be used to support physical education practitioners who are looking to create a more inclusive environment.
However, the two were so different that Nguyen quickly realized it wouldn't be feasible to combine them into one resource. And as someone who grew up with an autistic loved one, she was distraught by some of the perspectives presented in the textbooks.
The contents of these textbooks mean that "people who are working in schools, in communities, are coming with these really harmful, outdated ideas, even though they're often well-meaning," explains Peers, associate professor in the Faculty of Kinesiology, Sport, and Recreation, Tier 2 Canada Research Chair in Disability and Movement Cultures, and a member of the Women and Children's Health Research Institute.
Nguyen and Peers identified three main areas where the two sources diverged most significantly — the language they used, the lens through which they viewed autism, and the practices and behaviours they recommended.
The researchers found that the textbooks typically used a one-size-fits-all approach, with prescriptive and inflexible language. "They tend to be more firm, 'this is the way to do it,'" says Nguyen. "The self-advocates tended to use language that was very inviting, providing context and really focusing on choice and autonomy."
The textbooks viewed autism through a "pathology paradigm," as a condition requiring intervention and correction. "The pathology paradigm involves seeing disability as a deficit, as something that's broken and needs to be fixed," says Nguyen. In comparison, self-advocates used a "neurodiversity paradigm," which embraces and values variety, seeing differences as "a part of normal diversity in humans."
Nguyen and Peers also found that many textbooks promoted a type of intervention called applied behaviour analysis, which is heavily criticized by members of the autistic self-advocate community based on evidence that these interventions can traumatize autistic students.
Nguyen and Peers suggest the path forward involves revising the teaching materials in a way that invites conversation and amplifies the voices of self-advocates.
"It is so valuable, useful and helpful to learn from people who have those lived experiences," says Nguyen.
"It would be lovely if a textbook's approach wasn't merely, 'What do we have to update?' but rather, 'How can we take this moment to reflect and challenge our assumptions?'" says Peers.
"There's no blame or pointing fingers," adds Nguyen. "It's a question of, can we engage and invite a movement towards a different paradigm, to centre more of the voices of people with lived experience?"
The U of A is already emerging as a leader in this paradigm shift, the study authors claim, with researchers like Nancy Spencer, Joanna Auger and Donna Goodwin making significant strides in reconceptualizing how adapted physical activity is taught.
