For decades, the education of children with disabilities involved a range of settings.
Some students spend most of their day in general education classrooms. Others received part of their instruction in resource rooms. Some needed self-contained classrooms, specialized schools, residential programs, or other specialized settings.
The goal of special education was never to place every child in the same classroom. It was to ensure each child received an education tailored to their individual needs. Yet over time, that principle has been overshadowed by a push toward one-size-fits-all inclusion—a shift that has left many students without the supports and placements they require to learn safely and effectively.
The conversation moved from mainstreaming to inclusion—and eventually, for some advocates, to full inclusion.
That history matters because these terms are sometimes treated as though they mean the same thing. They do not!
Mainstreaming Was Not the Same as Full Inclusion
Under traditional mainstreaming, a student with a disability might spend part of the school day in a general education classroom and part of the day receiving specialized classroom instruction elsewhere.
The student could participate in regular classes when appropriate while receiving more intensive instruction or services in a resource room, self-contained classroom, or other specialized setting.
By the early 1990s, however, a stronger version of inclusion was gaining attention.
In 1992, the National Association of State Boards of Education released Winners All: A Call for Inclusive Schools. Contemporary reporting described the report as one of the strongest endorsements at that time from a general-education organization for “full inclusion.”
Under the model described by Education Week, students with disabilities would generally be taught in regular classrooms throughout the day rather than routinely receiving instruction in separate resource rooms or center-based programs. [1]
It was a shift in philosophy with real consequences for children who rely on individualized support.
Education Week reported that, under the full-inclusion model, special-education teachers would increasingly move into regular classrooms to team-teach or provide support rather than routinely pulling students out for instruction in separate settings. [2] The report itself made clear that this was not simply a change in classroom location. It was a change in how schools were organized.
The report stated:
“There should be no mistake about the implications of this vision: The [report] is calling for a fundamental shift in the delivery of education.” [3]
That sentence deserves attention. A “fundamental shift” is considerably more than asking whether a particular child should spend more time with nondisabled classmates. It raises a larger question:
That sentence deserves attention. A “fundamental shift” is considerably more than asking whether a particular child should spend more time with nondisabled classmates. It raises a larger question:
What happens when inclusion becomes the organizing philosophy of the entire school system?
The Regular Education Initiative
The movement toward inclusion did not appear overnight.
During the 1980s and early 1990s, educators were debating the Regular Education Initiative, commonly called REI. One important feature of REI was the idea that general education teachers and special educators should work together rather than treating special education as a completely separate system.
A 1990 article in Exceptional Children examined the basic assumptions of REI and addressed the changing responsibilities of regular and special educators. [4] Other research from this period also examined how prepared teachers were for increasingly integrated classrooms. [5]
There were legitimate problems with the existing system. Students could become isolated. Separate programs could become disconnected from the rest of the school. Funding structures could influence placement decisions. And some students undoubtedly spent too little time with their nondisabled peers. Those concerns deserved attention. But solving those problems raised another question:
Would the answer be to improve the continuum of services—or eventually to reduce the importance of the continuum itself?
A Debate Was Already Underway
This was not a settled issue in 1992.
The contemporary debate included educators and parents who supported stronger inclusion but also believed a full range of placement options remained essential.
Education Week reported concerns from special-education professionals about students with severe behavioral challenges or unique learning needs. It also documented concerns raised by deaf students and advocates about whether a regular classroom could consistently provide an appropriate communication environment. [6]
The Council for Exceptional Children representative quoted in the article emphasized that there could not be “one choice” and supported a continuum of options while strengthening inclusive opportunities. [7]
The Council for Exceptional Children representative quoted in the article emphasized that there could not be “one choice” and supported a continuum of options while strengthening inclusive opportunities. [7]
In other words, the debate was never simply:
“Do children with disabilities belong with other children?”
Most people could agree that children with disabilities should have meaningful opportunities to participate with their nondisabled peers.
The harder question was:
The harder question was:
Does meaningful inclusion require the same classroom for every child, for most of the day, regardless of the child's individual needs?
That is a very different question.
Why This History Matters Today
The history is important because the language of “inclusion” can conceal an important distinction. There is a difference between saying:
The history is important because the language of “inclusion” can conceal an important distinction. There is a difference between saying:
“Children with disabilities should not automatically be separated.”
and saying:
“Children with disabilities should generally be educated in general education classrooms rather than separate settings.”
The first statement challenges unnecessary separation. The second can become a statement about the structure of the educational system itself. Those are not necessarily the same thing. And that distinction takes us directly to IDEA.
Federal law has never required placing every child with a disability in the general-education classroom. Its mandate is clear: each child must receive an education based on their individual needs, supported by a full continuum of placements. When systems ignore that requirement in favor of one-size-fits-all inclusion, they are not advancing equity—they are violating the core promise of IDEA. [8]
That continuum is the subject of Part 2.
Footnotes
1. Debra Viadero, “NASBE Endorses ‘Full Inclusion’ of Disabled Students,” Education Week, November 4, 1992.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid. The quotation is from the NASBE report as quoted by Education Week.
4. Joseph R. Jenkins, Constance G. Pious, and Mark Jewell, “Special Education and the Regular Education Initiative: Basic Assumptions,” Exceptional Children 56, no. 6 (1990): 479–491.
5. Christopher A. Kearney and V. Mark Durand, “How Prepared Are Our Teachers for Mainstreamed Classroom Settings? A Survey of Postsecondary Schools of Education in New York State,” Exceptional Children 59, no. 1 (1992).
6. Viadero, “NASBE Endorses ‘Full Inclusion’ of Disabled Students.”
7. Ibid.
8. 34 C.F.R. §§ 300.114–300.115.