I recently attended a conference on Brain Development and Learning. I often describe myself as a “sociologist gone bad!” I am not a clinician nor am I an educator. My interest in the conference was to learn more about emerging research on learning, and brain physiology associated with learning disabilities. While at the conference, I found myself rubbing shoulders with research scientists, physicians, educators and other supremely dedicated people wanting to better understand how we learn or have trouble learning. I felt like a crack addict getting a hit!
I plan to write about some of the sessions in future columns. This column is focused on an issue that resonated with me greatly throughout the entire conference. It is the critical need to marry research and practice.
The wisdom of marrying practice to research is illustrated by looking back in time to the early investigations about the spread of infection. The research in question was to explore a puzzling situation in which a very high percentage of women died shortly after giving birth. This occurred in the days before knowledge of bacteria and the spread of infection. The research, which was initially ridiculed, identified a circumstance that appeared to be shared by all women who died. Specifically, their physician, before seeing them, had been at the morgue completing autopsies on others who had died of the same mysterious cause. We now know that these women were victims of infection unwittingly transmitted to them by the doctor who was trying to help them. The importance of hand washing to prevent the spread of infection, was not known at the time. Sadly, this research was initially ignored. As a result, many unfortunate women died.
It is easy to say, “That was a long time ago and this is now! This does not happen any more. We know about infections.” But, I would respectfully argue that the issue of ignoring the research happens as much today as it did before we knew about microscopic bacteria and viruses. We have a track record of ignoring the implications of good research, particularly if those implications challenge “sacred cows,” or suggest a course of action that is not aligned with the prevailing “politics” of the day. I have seen it, and I would bet good money that readers of this column have as well. And to return to the issue of the spread of infection, how many people have you witnessed leaving a public washroom without washing their hands? I have seen many and we all know hand washing is a vital weapon in stemming the spread of disease.
It is possible to default to the view that learning disabilities are not like infections. People don’t die from having learning disabilities. In which case I would indicate that there is a body of quality research that clearly indicates that the negative social and emotional consequences of unremediated learning disabilities can kill just as effectively as if the person had an unchecked infection. The cause of death, in this instance is suicide and not infection, but the people are just as dead, and the survivors just or even more so devastated from this loss of life.
There has been an explosion of research, of high quality, that addresses strategies for supporting students with learning disabilities. In the decade since I have been in the “learning disabilities community,” both as a volunteer and professional, I have encountered situations where research findings have been willfully ignored. It leads me to the question, “Why? Don’t we want people affected by learning disabilities to live well, and maximize their potential? Shouldn’t we have an obligation to stay on top of our field, and be constantly aware of new research that could improve outcomes?”
At the conference, I sat in sessions where I learned about studies that clearly revealed how the brain of a person with dyslexia processes information. Reading disabilities are neurological in nature. Yet I have heard from educators and administrators, or policy advisers and many others that learning disabilities, or in this case dyslexia, are “not real” and that the people in question should just apply themselves. The message — learning disabilities are a consequence of being lazy. Having seen our son with learning disabilities work three times as hard on his schoolwork as his non-LD brother, indicates that in our family, its not a matter of being lazy. It is being “LD!”
Clearly, I believe we have a moral obligation to keep up and to be mindful of new developments. That is not to say that we should cast aside critical reason or question and accept blindly all results. But I do believe that it is time for the field of education, in particular, to be ever mindful of the research on learning and to adjust and refine approaches to include these developments. No longer do I want to hear a teacher who says, “I have been doing it this way for twenty-five years,” unless of course, the following phrase is, “and the research indicates that this is a great approach!”
Kathryn Burke, BA (Hon), MA is the founder of LDExperience. Follow Kathryn on Facebook and Twitter.
© Kathryn Burke and LDExperience. If citing this article, please do so as follows: Kathryn Burke, “The Deadly Implications of Not Keeping up with Research” www.LDExperience.ca, July 24, 2010.
2 Comments
If dyslexia was a forest then brain researchers are looking at individual species of trees. Yes each tree is part of the forest but forests can not be defined just by having those individual species.
Until the forest can be defined as having an assortment of trees, brain research will never be able to identify any individual as dyslexic or not by those methods.
Thanks for your comment. I would agree that the brain certainly is complex, particularly after having attended the conference! I found it fascinating to learn about the new imaging techniques that show differences in where the brain processes info in the dyslexic and non-dyslexic. There was even discussion about white matter pathways. The images are not designed to be used as diagnostic tools, but as exploration/research into the neurological nature of LD. I will be writing a column on what I heard.