Dhriti Kirpalani and Sandhya Basu

“I started this school for my son. He has a speech delay and Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). I put him in a regular school at the time. I would always get complaints that he doesn't listen to teachers, and he’s always lost. One day, they called and asked me to pick him up as they could not cater to his needs.”This is the account of the founder of an inclusive school, who started the school from her lived experience within the system. However, this is not an isolated experience. Across India, children with special educational needs and disabilities (SEND) navigate an educational landscape where the promise of inclusion and the reality are vastly different.

A parent of an 11-year-old on the autism spectrum described this plainly, “I have been denied admission from so many inclusive schools. When I once got him admitted to a school, I was constantly scared that they would,any day, cancel his enrolment.”

It is in this reality that a recent circular by the Central Board of Secondary Education (CBSE) addressing its stance on Inclusive Education (IE) mandates CBSE-affiliated schools to ‘ensure a barrier-free infrastructure, appointment of qualified special educators, non-discriminatory admissions, and examination concessions for Children with special needs’. The circular takes a progressive rights-based lens, shifting from previously seen segregation to inclusion of children with special educational needs (CwSN). The mandate creates a situation where schools cannot legally refuse admission to students with special educational needs and disabilities, but our research findings, coupled with findings of other existing studies, show that, among other challenges, staff members are often pedagogically unprepared to include students with diverse needs.

To better understand the tension between the pedagogical capacity of schools and policy enforcement, we conducted a qualitative study across five inclusive schools in Bengaluru. Of the five schools, three were CBSE-affiliated, one was a state-affiliated school that relied heavily on government and private funding to sustain itself, and the last was a high-income school that was not registered under CBSE.

We observed that inconsistencies existed in how IE is conceptualised and practised within schools. Imagine a child with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) may be admitted to a CBSE-affiliated school, sits at the back of the classroom without a shadow teacher, with a modified curriculum to unevenly accommodate learning needs, and a teacher with only a limited awareness of different needs. This is a situation recounted by a parent whose child with cerebral palsy (CP) sits in the classroom, but the teacher does not engage her in any kind of learning. Though she is present in an inclusive classroom, inclusion does not exist.

Interviews with teachers across these schools revealed gaps that go beyond what was acknowledged in the circular, such as the lack of a fundamental understanding of disability among teachers, often coupled with a very reductionistic lens towards special educational needs and disability, such as perceiving bleak future opportunities and dependence. One teacher shared, “There is a child in my class who doesn't speak. I don't know what stops him,” which reflects an educator's lack of understanding about what a disability entails.

As opposed to viewing education as a right, most of the educators included in our study viewed inclusive education as an opportunity given to children with SEND. This mindset consequently leads to rethinking inclusive education as courtesy rather than a rights-based approach. For instance, a founder of another inclusive school remarked, “Children on the spectrum are not meant for the same rat race as others. They have a different path in life that doesn't involve the mainstream idea of success. We redesign their idea of success.” While well-intended, this framing narrows the possibilities of a child.

What is seen as a rights-based approach is actually contingent on the institution's capacity for preparedness towards inclusion and inclusive practices. Overall, the teachers in our study demonstrated a very limited awareness of IE policies and legislative mandates. While they came from different educational backgrounds across schools, many were not trained in education, specifically, special education. Most teachers did not know why inclusion was important; it was interpreted as noble, as being kind or helping struggling students. This fundamental disconnect of why teachers are unaware of the policies they are expected to implement makes this an administrative rhetoric practice rather than a pedagogical practice. A teacher described her main motivation for working in an inclusive school as helping such children because anyone can teach normalchildren.

The lack of conceptual clarity about disability and neurodivergence can lead to inclusion being a personalised approach, which is dependent on teacher attitudes rather than institutional frameworks. This manner of practising inclusion could mean negligence for a few students whose needs fall outside the competency of the teacher, whereby learners would only achieve limited learning outcomes. The question here then is, why are educators personalising practices of inclusion?

We observed that there exists a lack of standardisation regarding IE and related teacher training. We saw that teachers operate within already demanding environments characterised by large class sizes, examination pressures, and administrative responsibilities, while ensuring inclusion without the right training, infrastructure, and support. “There are 30 students in class, out of which five are children with different needs. It becomes difficult to manage if they have a meltdown. Teaching all of them at the same pace becomes much more difficult”, said a teacher at an inclusive school who is facing a structural difficulty, making inclusion feel like a highly demanding task rather than a school's shared responsibility.Institutional-level practices of inclusion were largely dependent on the philosophies of school founders and available resources rather than any standardised framework.

Yet not all accounts were of failed practices; some parents also highlighted developmental gains through enrolment in inclusive schools, particularly in communication, social engagement, and access to academic support through individualised educational plans (IEPs). The parent of a child who has moderate autism shared, “After coming to the inclusive school, he started walking by himself, eating by himself. And now he sits and plays with kids his age. His school gives him an opportunity to take part in competitions he couldn't before." Similarly, parents of neurotypical children shared that nothing shifts the attitude of children more than inclusive spaces in terms of developing greater empathy, sensitivity and acceptance of differences. In one sense, inclusion fosters social values at a formative age. But we must ask here if the primary goal of an inclusive school is fostering social inclusion or developing opportunities that provide equitable education and promising prospects?

Inclusion is a uniformly realised practice; however, it is, as established, contingent on institutional readiness and resource availability. Mandating documentation for exam exemptions and concessions does not equate to the capacity of schools to have inclusive practices. At the level of implementation, significant proportions of schools lack trained personnel, infrastructural readiness, and pedagogical adaptation. From our study, we conclude that the non-refusal mandate exists within a dual reality. At the level of policy discourse, inclusion is articulated as a rights-based imperative aligned with national legislation and curriculum reform, but at the ground level, the reality is fragmented and with inconsistent implementation.

Addressing this gap would mean moving into a capacity-driven inclusion from the existing mandated-driven inclusion. Teacher training in inclusive pedagogies, collaboration of educators with special educators and specialised mental health professionals to improve understanding and nuances of inclusive practices, and a systemic shift to ensure infrastructure to allow classrooms to be a space for all learners are the needs of the hour. Additionally, a sustained effort from institutions to embed inclusive values within the day-to-day activities of children, rather than as add-ons, can help the policy vision come to life. Ultimately, consistent, supported, and collaborative practices among educators, caregivers, and mental health professionals will shift IE from an ideal world scenario to an actual pathway that yields improved educational outcomes with a focus on equitable and empathetic environments.

Dhriti Kriplani is a Research Associate, Psychology Group, Azim Premji University

Sandhya Basu, Assistant Professor, Psychology Group, Azim Premji University

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views or the positions of the organisation they represent.