The term SEND is doing more harm than good, argues Mike Finlay, and we should stop using it to categorise young people.
The acronym SEND isn’t in itself a problem, but there is growing evidence that its continued use may be reinforcing the very inequalities it aims to address, and a growing number of voices are calling for a rethink of its use.
The views of children and young people are compelling and heart-breaking, and there are many examples of pupil voice highlighting negative experiences. Young people on the SEN register sense the limitations put upon them by some school staff and family members as a result of their categorisation. Rather than being a useful term for delivering effective educational provision, learners describe how inclusive practice instead becomes a requirement for their voice to play a role in overcoming barriers to learning. However, while the autistic identity of an autistic learner is important, the non-specific catch-all term SEND is not.
The role of education is to ensure a consistently high quality and positive experience for each child on setting foot in the door, but a proportion of educators lower their expectations of learners who are labelled as SEND. This lowering of expectations resulting simply from the SEND label, and is manifested in the interventionist approaches implemented in some mainstream settings (Ofsted, May 13 2021, Supporting SEND), where a higher proportion of learners with SEND encounter teaching led by non-qualified teachers or teaching assistants. Where a learner struggles in school, it is increasingly common that SEND follows by way of explanation.
Commonly, parents and carers strongly defend the categorisation of children and young people in SEND terminology. This is unsurpising, given the rights afforded to young people and their guardians by the Children and Families Act 2014. With legislation comes protection, and with protection comes the ability to insist that a child or young person receives that to which they are entitled. This is what I believe is the heart of the matter. The othering of children and young people, the lowering of expectations associated with terminology, the reason why those embedded in the system itself call for change in our collective language, and the genuine concern of families are rooted in the unintended consequences and failings of the Children and Families Act 2014 and the ensuing SEND Code of Practice 2015.
The 2014 Act was an attempt to move on from the previous bureaucratic, inconsistent and adversarial approaches of the time. Statements were replaced by EHCPs, which combined the expectation of co-produced input with increased clarity on the threshold at which EHC needs assessment would be required and the purpose of resulting plans. It sought also to deliver choice and improved outcomes. Local Authorities were statutorily obliged to deliver specific educational provision, aimed at delivering consistently inclusive provision and preventing the postcode lottery in which the greatest determinant of a learner’s success was which school they attended. However, the 2014 Act was built around a medical model of disability or need, and it explicitly details the points of conflict between stakeholders. Deficit must be demonstrated, statutory timescales must be adhered to and funding must be provided—thereby ensuring that SEND would continue to be stereotyped as a challenge to all parties, while also carrying financial implications. On top of this, families gained the right to request any education setting, potentially even independent settings. I’d argue that this doesn’t provide a sound foundation for inclusive practice, but rather hints strongly at the assumption that some settings will make more effective provision for their entire population than others.
And the impact of the 2014 Act on outcomes for our learners with SEND? They are less likely to attend school, or more likely to receive suspensions or exclusions where they do.
New paths are there to be trodden. The term SEND may once have symbolised protection and entitlement, but it has become a label burdened with unintended consequences. Removing the label will not in itself create an inclusive system, but it is a critical step toward dismantling the structures and assumptions that limit progress. A future built on strength-based, person-centred and needs-responsive education requires a new vocabulary and the courage to use it.