The Forgotten Truth About Inclusion and Exclusion
People love to talk about how much better schools were “back in the day.” They remember the 1950s through the early 1970s as an age of discipline, manners, and respect for teachers. But that nostalgia leaves out the children who weren’t there at all, and the harsh realities for those who didn’t fit the mold.
Who Wasn’t in the Classroom
Before 1975, most public schools set IQ cutoffs for attendance. Many districts refused enrollment to children whose IQs fell below 70, labeling them “uneducable” or simply “trainable.” Those children were often sent to state institutions or “training schools” designed to teach simple, repetitive tasks like folding towels or sorting utensils, not reading, writing, or math. Others stayed home entirely.
Students who were blind, deaf, or physically disabled were typically sent to special residential schools, often far from their families. Parents might see them only on weekends or holidays. And because public buildings were not required to be accessible, even mildly disabled children were shut out of neighborhood schools. There were no ramps, elevators, or adaptive devices. Bathrooms were inaccessible, and classrooms were packed tightly with rows of desks, leaving no space for mobility aids or wheelchairs.
Institutionalization and the Lost Generation
Conditions in many institutions were bleak. Children labeled “mentally retarded” or “behaviorally disturbed” often lived in overcrowded, understaffed facilities. Education was minimal, if it existed at all. Some were restrained, neglected, or warehoused for life. The heartbreaking images later released from places like Willowbrook State School revealed just how far from “the good old days” those years really were. (Read the endnote on the Dark Legacy of Willowbrook for more information on the Willowbrook State School.)
The Illusion of Order
In regular classrooms, order and conformity were valued above all else. Corporal punishment was common. Children were expected to sit still, memorize, and obey. Those who could not were labeled as defiant or lazy, when in reality many had undiagnosed conditions such as ADHD, autism, or dyslexia.
Gifted children often struggled too. Those who thought creatively or challenged ideas were seen as troublemakers. If they finished their work quickly or questioned teachers, they were accused of showing off. Some were pushed ahead a grade or two based solely on academic performance, even though they were not emotionally ready for that leap. Many of these bright but misunderstood students eventually became alienated and dropped out of school completely.
Grouping and “Tracking”
By the 1960s, many schools used ability grouping, or “tracking.” Students were sorted into high, middle, or low groups based on IQ scores or test performance.
- The “high” group, usually made up of middle-class white students, thrived under challenging work and high expectations.
- The “middle” group received average instruction and maintained steady progress.
- The “low” group was assigned remedial work with minimal expectations. These classes were often led by teachers who were inexperienced, struggling professionally, or approaching retirement and worn down by years of classroom stress. The message to those students was clear: no one expected much.
What was meant to streamline instruction ended up boxing students in instead. Students rarely moved between groups, and those in the lowest tracks often stayed there for their entire schooling. Many of these children had undiagnosed learning disabilities that would not be recognized until years later.
The Struggle Toward Inclusion
When the Education for All Handicapped Children Act (Public Law 94-142) passed in 1975, it promised to change everything. But early implementation was chaotic. Students with widely different needs, physical disabilities, developmental delays, emotional disorders, and learning challenges were lumped together in “special education” rooms at the end of the hall. Teachers had little training and no aides. When behavior or frustration escalated, some schools relied on isolation boxes or padded “quiet rooms,” believing these were therapeutic. They were not. They were contained.
The Evolution and Reality of Special Education Teachers
When special education first appeared in public schools in the 1970s, there was no clear model to follow. Many of the first special education classrooms were staffed by teachers who had general education or psychology backgrounds but no formal training in disabilities. Some came from social work or medical settings, bringing compassion but little classroom experience. Others were simply reassigned from general education because the principal thought they were patient, nurturing, or ready for an easier role near retirement.
As the field developed through the late 1970s and 1980s, universities began creating special education degree programs that focused on behavioral management, individualized instruction, and legal compliance. Special education teachers became trained professionals with specific credentials, expected to write Individualized Education Programs (IEPs), modify instruction, and collaborate with general education teachers.
Today, certification standards are far more rigorous, yet the reality is harder than ever. Special education teachers are pulled in every direction — co-teaching in general education classrooms, running small pull-out groups, attending IEP meetings, documenting progress, and providing accommodations for dozens of students with very different needs. Paperwork alone can consume more than half their work week.
Meanwhile, there is a national shortage of qualified special education teachers. Many schools rely on paraprofessionals (paras) to provide in-class support. These paras are often kind, patient, and dedicated, but few have specialized training in autism, learning disabilities, or emotional and behavioral disorders. In some classrooms, a single para may be responsible for several students at once, all with unique needs.
As a result, many students who are legally entitled to a set number of instructional or support “minutes” under their IEPs never receive them. Teachers are pulled to cover other duties, and the general education teacher is left trying to fill the gap, juggling 20 to 30 other students while also providing accommodations they were never trained to deliver.
Most general education teachers take only one introductory course on special education during college. It is often an inspirational overview about inclusion and empathy, not a hands-on course about how to implement an IEP, collect data, or write modifications that actually work.
To make matters worse, general education teachers and special education teachers almost never have time to plan together. The classroom teacher’s planning period is scheduled during the school day, but during that same time the special education teacher is usually attending IEP meetings, handling crises, or providing pull-out instruction. Without this collaboration, the co-teaching model — which depends on communication and joint planning — falls apart before it even begins.
Today’s Challenge
Now the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction. Many schools are so afraid of lawsuits or compliance violations that they push full inclusion, even when it is not appropriate. Students with severe behavioral, cognitive, or emotional challenges are placed in general education classrooms without the supports they need to succeed. Teachers are expected to differentiate instruction for every student, often without additional help.
The result is that no one gets what they truly need. Struggling students flounder, advanced students wait, and teachers — both general and special education — feel defeated.
Finding the Middle Ground
The history of special education is not a straight path from wrong to right. It is a story of overcorrections and unintended consequences.
We have moved from exclusion to inclusion, but we still have not achieved integration — the balance point where every child has access, support, and belonging.
The “good old days” were not good for everyone. But remembering who was left out helps us see how far we have come, as well as how far we still have to go.
Endnote: The Dark Legacy of Willowbrook
Willowbrook State School, located on Staten Island in New York, opened in 1947 as a state-run institution for children and adults with intellectual disabilities. It was built to hold about 4,000 residents but soon housed more than 6,000. Overcrowding, neglect, and a lack of funding turned it into a warehouse for people society preferred not to see.
Most residents lived in large wards with rows of metal beds, few clothes, and almost no personal space. Many were left unattended for hours, sitting or lying on the floor. Education and therapy were virtually nonexistent. Those who could have lived with family or in the community had no such option, since community-based programs did not yet exist.
In 1972, television reporter Geraldo Rivera exposed the conditions in a shocking investigative report called “Willowbrook: The Last Great Disgrace.” Hidden cameras revealed children rocking on the floor, smeared with filth, and overworked attendants struggling to care for dozens of residents at once. The report horrified viewers and forced the public to confront the reality of institutional “care.”
Even more disturbing, it later came to light that some residents were used in unethical medical experiments during the 1950s and 60s. Researchers intentionally infected children with hepatitis, claiming it was justified because the disease already spread rapidly inside the overcrowded facility.
The public outrage that followed helped fuel the disability rights movement and the deinstitutionalization of the 1970s and 80s. A class-action lawsuit in 1975 led to the closure of Willowbrook and the relocation of residents into smaller community homes.
Willowbrook finally closed in 1987, but its legacy remains a reminder of what can happen when people with disabilities are isolated, undervalued, or forgotten. Its exposure helped pave the way for the Education for All Handicapped Children Act of 1975 and, later, the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990; laws that moved the country toward inclusion, accountability, and basic human dignity for all.
If you would like to see Geraldo Rivera’s documentary, Willowbrook: The Last Great Disgrace in its entirety, you can visit this non-affiliated link.
(NOTE: TRIGGER WARNING – this video is very disturbing. I remember when it was first shown back in 1972 it was very controversial to show such a disturbing video on television.)
1972. Willowbrook: The Last Great Disgrace, Geraldo Rivera’s original expose – YouTube
If you’d like to know more about what led me to write this story, please take a look at Why I Wrote “The Good Old Days – But For Whom” – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life .
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