LD Blog

A blogger who identifies herself as “Profgrrrl” (Playing School, Irreverently), posted about her negative reaction to seeing a flyer advertising disabilities services on the campus where she teaches. She describes the flyer as saying “‘Failing your classes?’ It goes on to suggest that if you are failing then you may have a learning disability.” After affirming her acceptance of the concept of Learning Disabilities, Profgrrrl, decries mistaken implications of the flyer.

She hits a couple of good points. Here’s one:

My take on people who are failing is that some may well have disabilities, but others are lazy, disenfranchised, unmotivated. I’ve experienced students (back when I taught undergrads most of the time; my grad students tend to not do this) who perform poorly on an assessment and then try to tell you they have a disability and need more time. BUT they don’t have a documented disability. I want to be sympathetic, but I’m only required to accommodate those with letters from the Office of Disabilities. How can I, someone without expertise in this area, based on a post-assignment conversation with a student who isn’t happy with his grade make a valid judgment about whether or not this student needs accommodations? If the student knows he has a disability, why isn’t there documentation?

It’s nice to see someone else discriminating between can’ts and won’ts, but that’s not the best of it. I’m glad that there are others in academic circles who, even if they are not in my field of study, chafe at the diluting—shoot, the cheapening—of the concept of Learning Disabilities.

Link to Profgrrrl’s post.

In an extensive story about autism that uses a family with three children with autism as a case, there is another instance of Learning Disability being used as a generic term. Here’s the quote, referring to autism: “The mildest forms resemble a personality disorder associated with a perceived learning disability.” Anyone know what “a perceived learning disabilty” is?

Link to the story.

Mel Levine’s publications about Learning Disabilities—”learning differences” in his parlance—are immensely popular, his campaigns are well financed, and his view is seductively appealing. But, his approach has not gained support among the academics with whom I associate. Why? What’s the matter with it?

Daniel Willingham, about whose work I’ve commented admiringly in previous posts, has turned his laser-sharp analysis on Dr. Levine’s theory and practical recommendations. Professor Willingham does not mince words.

Levine’s broad-strokes account of the mind agrees with that of most researchers (and for that matter, with the observant layman): there is a memory system, an attention system, and so on. But it’s the detailed structure Levine claims to see within each of those systems that really drives his proposed treatments for disabled children, and on those details Levine is often wrong. The second question one should ask is, Does the evidence indicate that his proposed treatments help? The answer is that there is no evidence, positive or negative, as to whether or not the program helps kids. Given the inaccurate description of the mind on which it is based, however, it seems unlikely that it will prove particularly effective.

In my view, Willingham’s analysis is quite strong. I’ll talk with him about my reservations, but I have no reservation about recommending his review of Dr. Levine’s recommendations. Teachers of students with LD, please read it. Parents, please read it and don’t be taken in by this balogna. Professors, have your students read it. Spread the word.

Here’s a link to Professor Willingham’s analysis. Alternatively, one can download a PDF of the article.