Features
Education for some but not for others: Learning support, disability, and free education
By Ramya Kumar
Kuppi Talk stands for democratising education and educational spaces by addressing issues of access, (in)equality, exclusion and marginalization, within our education systems. This Kuppi Talk draws on conversations with principals/teachers, parents, and students, to look into the everyday forms of violence and exclusion experienced by children with special needs at our schools and universities.
“I could not concentrate or sit in one place, but this was not recognised as a problem by my parents or teachers…it was when I went extreme that the problem was identified, that is when I became violent …. I was bored … .my accumulated frustration finally jumped out as a cry for help.” – Lucky, University student
Lucky, a high performing student with special learning needs, enrolled at a state university, recalled how he faced humiliation, corporal punishment, a three-month suspension, and finally ran away from home to end up at a detention centre. It was only there that Lucky’s potential was recognised by a visiting doctor, who supported him to return to school. “I came out of this system by chance, despite the odds stacked against me, but there are many many children who do not.”
Sri Lanka endorses a policy of inclusive education. According to UNESCO, inclusive education is “a process of addressing and responding to the diversity of needs of all learners.” Implied in this approach is that students with special educational needs and/or disability must be supported to achieve their learning potential. Towards this end, schools and universities should create conducive learning environments that meet the individual needs of children. In reality, however, about a third of children with disabilities in Sri Lanka never go to school, and when they do, most are not identified to be in need of support.
As Deepthi, a parent whose son has special learning needs, explained, “Our education system assumes all children are the same, and, if they are not, there is something very wrong with them.” The Ministry of Education issues guidelines for schools to involve parents in their children’s education. However, this approach has resulted in teachers placing all the responsibility on parents, especially mothers. “When I went for PTA meetings, the teachers would make me feel that [my son] is abnormal and that I was not doing my job.” In fact, because teachers and school administrations do not understand the problem, schooling becomes a toxic experience. “My child was separated from the rest and frequently punished, but these measures did not address the issue.”
As Lucky pointed out, our education system does not have a mechanism to identify and support students with less obvious learning challenges. Instead, these children are punished, and even beaten, for disorderly conduct. Even if identified, there is no organised system for assessment and follow up, which means that parents, who often do not understand the problem, must cope on their own, resulting in poor academic performance and low-self-esteem, among such students. On the other hand, high-performing students, who have exceptional abilities, are compelled to follow the current system of rote learning, and become bored and disengaged, with adverse and far-reaching outcomes.
The Protection of the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act of 1996 stipulates, “No person with a disability shall be discriminated against on the ground of such disability in recruitment for any employment or office or admission to any educational institution.” Accordingly, students with obvious special needs are admitted to special education units in our schools, but what happens once they get there? According to Shanthi, a principal of a school that caters to children with special needs, inclusive education has been watered down to “integrating” such students to the mainstream. “Rather than creating a learning environment that nurtures children with special needs, they are moulded to conform to mainstream education that has little to offer them.” Unsurprisingly, these children often do not perform well in school, and, in a vicious cycle, do not find gainful employment, and cannot live independently.
While certain private schools do have the resources, including trained teachers, to support children with special educational needs, such facilities are not accessible to the vast majority of children in Sri Lanka. Nayana, a principal of a village school in the Central Province, described the ad hoc manner in which a special education unit was set up in her school, with minimal support and resources. In Nayana’s school, of about 500 students, 25 plus children learn in the special education unit. Over half of them have autism spectrum disorder, followed by Down Syndrome, and other undiagnosed problems that make them “slow learners.” Despite varying levels of ability, these children make do with a small classroom and one trained teacher. Although the unit has three teachers—two with no training in special education—the requirement is much higher. The Department of Education appoints one teacher per five students with special educational needs (and one teacher per two students with autism), but most cadre positions remain vacant in village schools. This means that parents, mostly mothers, of children with severe disability, stay on at school to assist with their children’s education.
The education zone in which Nayana’s school is located has two other special education units, which are also desperately under-resourced: “We do not receive support from the educational authorities to develop these units.” As a result, they function as day-care centres without resources to empower students to function independently, making “integration” very difficult. Shanthi, the principal mentioned above, believes that “integration” is practically impossible, other than in rare occasions with high-performing students: “Most special education units do not have teachers with the required training, and the teachers in mainstream classrooms, who have even less expertise, must singlehandedly attend to the needs of “integrated” students as well as their classes.” A major factor here is the lack of strong programmes in special needs education, which means that we do not have teachers with sufficient expertise to teach visually- and hearing-impaired children, and those with neurodevelopmental problems.
In many ways, students with physical disability may have a better deal. Hiran, a university student with a severe physical disability, recalled his experience at primary school when his mother spent the entire day at school during his early years. While Hiran received tremendous support from his teachers and peers, who would go out of their way to move him from one disability inaccessible place to another, he could never function independently as there were no ramps, lifts, or disability accessible washrooms. While these challenges continue at university, where entering a lecture hall is challenging, the education authorities have failed to support students like Hiran to learn independently. The UGC provides little guidance beyond the additional 10 minutes per hour at examinations. Although the UGC’s quality assurance mechanisms recommend institutions to develop policies on disability, they do not provide human and other resources to ensure disability access and accommodation.
Yet, the law, as stipulated in the Protection of the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act of 1996, states, “No person with a disability shall, on the ground of such disability, be subject to any liability, restriction or condition with regard to access to, or use of, any building or place which any other member of the public has access to or is entitled to use, whether on the payment of any fee or not.” While remedy for contravention of these provisions are included in the Act, the Disabled Persons (Accessibility) Regulations of 2006, lay down explicit disability accessibility standards, and also specify that all buildings/areas should conform to the standards within three years of the Act, that is by 2009. Twelve years later, in 2021, disability access remains minimal, including at schools and universities. Few seek legal redress, perhaps because judicial procedures are time consuming, expensive and do not offer quick results.
Free education is about equality of opportunity. As stated in the Kannangara Report of 1943, “Talents and ability are not confined to any social class or group and any social system must provide for their emergence by the provision of equal educational opportunities.” Yet, a section of our country’s children are bereft of educational opportunities as the education system fails to support them, and instead relegates their care and education to parents, especially mothers. Last month, the Minister of Education, responding to the threat of continuing trade union action by principals and teachers, declared, “Let us all join hands to give the children of this nation the opportunity to enjoy the right to free education, and thereby protect free education for all.” Rather than coopting free education to undermine trade unions, the Minister should do his job and take steps to protect free education for all, including children with special learning educational needs and disability.
*Names are replaced with pseudonyms.
(The author is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, University of Jaffna)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
Features
Ethnic-related problems need solutions now
In the space of 15 months, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has visited the North of the country more than any other president or prime minister. These were not flying visits either. The president most recent visit to Jaffna last week was on the occasion of Thai Pongal to celebrate the harvest and the dawning of a new season. During the two days he spent in Jaffna, the president launched the national housing project, announced plans to renovate Palaly Airport, to expedite operations at the Kankesanthurai Port, and pledged once again that racism would have no place in the country.
There is no doubt that the president’s consistent presence in the north has had a reassuring effect. His public rejection of racism and his willingness to engage openly with ethnic and religious minorities have helped secure his acceptance as a national leader rather than a communal one. In the fifteen months since he won the presidential election, there have been no inter community clashes of any significance. In a country with a long history of communal tension, this relative calm is not accidental. It reflects a conscious political choice to lower the racial temperature rather than inflame it.
But preventing new problems is only part of the task of governing. While the government under President Dissanayake has taken responsibility for ensuring that anti-minority actions are not permitted on its watch, it has yet to take comparable responsibility for resolving long standing ethnic and political problems inherited from previous governments. These problems may appear manageable because they have existed for years, even decades. Yet their persistence does not make them innocuous. Beneath the surface, they continue to weaken trust in the state and erode confidence in its ability to deliver justice.
Core Principle
A core principle of governance is responsibility for outcomes, not just intentions. Governments do not begin with a clean slate. Governments do not get to choose only the problems they like. They inherit the state in full, with all its unresolved disputes, injustices and problemmatic legacies. To argue that these are someone else’s past mistakes is politically convenient but institutionally dangerous. Unresolved problems have a habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments, often when a government is trying to push through reforms or stabilise the economy.
This reality was underlined in Geneva last week when concerns were raised once again about allegations of sexual abuse that occurred during the war, affecting both men and women who were taken into government custody. Any sense that this issue had faded from international attention was dispelled by the release of a report by the Office of the Human Rights High Commissioner titled “Sri Lanka: Report on conflict related sexual violence”, dated 13.01.26. Such reports do not emerge in a vacuum. They are shaped by the absence of credible domestic processes that investigate allegations, establish accountability and offer redress. They also shape international perceptions, influence diplomatic relationships and affect access to cooperation and support.
Other unresolved problems from the past continue to fester. These include the continued detention of Tamil prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act, in some cases for many years without conclusion, the failure to return civilian owned land taken over by the military during the war, and the fate of thousands of missing persons whose families still seek answers. These are not marginal issues even when they are not at the centre stage. They affect real lives and entire communities. Their cumulative effect is corrosive, undermining efforts to restore normalcy and rebuild confidence in public institutions.
Equal Rights
Another area where delay will prove costly is the resettlement of Malaiyaha Tamil communities affected by the recent cyclone in the central hills, which was the worst affected region in the country. Even as President Dissanayake celebrated Thai Pongal in Jaffna to the appreciation of the people there, Malaiyaha Tamils engaged in peaceful campaigns to bring attention to their unresolved problems. In Colombo at the Liberty Roundabout, a number of them gathered to symbolically celebrate Thai Pongal while also bringing national attention to the issues of their community, in particular the problem of displacement after the cyclone.
The impact of the cyclone, and the likelihood of future ones under conditions of climate change, make it necessary for the displaced Malaiyaha Tamils to be found new places of residence. This is also an opportunity to tackle the problem of their landlessness in a comprehensive manner and make up for decades if not two centuries of inequity.
Planning for relocation and secure housing is good governance. This needs to be done soon. Climate related disasters do not respect political timetables. They punish delay and indecision. A government that prides itself on system change cannot respond to such challenges with temporary fixes.
The government appears concerned that finding new places for the Malaiyaha Tamil people to be resettled will lead to land being taken away from plantation companies which are said to be already struggling for survival. Due to the economic crisis the country has faced since it went bankrupt in 2022, the government has been deferential to the needs of company owners who are receiving most favoured treatment. As a result, the government is contemplating solutions such as high rise apartments and townhouse style housing to minimise the use of land.
Such solutions cannot substitute for a comprehensive strategy that includes consultations with the affected population and addresses their safety, livelihoods and community stability.
Lose Trust
Most of those who voted for the government at the last elections did so in the hope that it would bring about system change. They did not vote for the government to reinforce the same patterns that the old system represented. At its core, system change means rebalancing priorities. It means recognising that economic efficiency without social justice is a short-term gain with long-term costs. It means understanding that unresolved ethnic grievances, unaddressed wartime abuses and unequal responses to disaster will eventually undermine any development programme, no matter how well designed. Governance that postpones difficult decisions may buy time, but lose trust.
The coming year will therefore be decisive. The government must show that its commitment to non racism and inclusion extends beyond conflict prevention to conflict resolution. Addressing conflict related abuses, concluding long standing detentions, returning land, accounting for the missing and securing dignified resettlement for displaced communities are not distractions from the government programme. They are central to it. A government committed to genuine change must address the problems it inherited, or run the risk of being overwhelmed when those problems finally demand settlement.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach
This Kuppi writing aims to engage critically with the current discussion on the reform initiative “Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025,” focusing on institutional and structural changes, including the integration of a digitally driven model alongside curriculum development, teacher training, and assessment reforms. By engaging with these proposed institutional and structural changes through the parameters of the division and recognition of labour, welfare and distribution systems, and lived ground realities, the article develops a critical perspective on the current reform discourse. By examining both the historical context and the present moment, the article argues that these institutional and structural changes attempt to align education with a neoliberal agenda aimed at enhancing the global corporate sector by producing “skilled” labour. This agenda is further evaluated through the pedagogical approach of socialist feminist scholarship. While the reforms aim to produce a ‘skilled workforce with financial literacy,’ this writing raises a critical question: whose labour will be exploited to achieve this goal? Why and What Reform to Education
In exploring why, the government of Sri Lanka seeks to introduce reforms to the current education system, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Higher Education, and Vocational Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya, revealed in a recent interview on 15 January 2026 on News First Sri Lanka that such reforms are a pressing necessity. According to the philosophical tradition of education reform, curriculum revision and prevailing learning and teaching structures are expected every eight years; however, Sri Lanka has not undertaken such revisions for the past ten years. The renewal of education is therefore necessary, as the current system produces structural issues, including inequality in access to quality education and the need to create labour suited to the modern world. Citing her words, the reforms aim to create “intelligent, civil-minded citizens” in order to build a country where people live in a civilised manner, work happily, uphold democratic principles, and live dignified lives.
Interpreting her narrative, I claim that the reform is intended to produce, shape, and develop a workforce for the neoliberal economy, now centralised around artificial intelligence and machine learning. My socialist feminist perspective explains this further, referring to Rosa Luxemburg’s reading on reforms for social transformation. As Luxemburg notes, although the final goal of reform is to transform the existing order into a better and more advanced system: The question remains: does this new order truly serve the working class? In the case of education, the reform aims to transform children into “intelligent, civil-minded citizens.” Yet, will the neoliberal economy they enter, and the advanced technological industries that shape it, truly provide them a better life, when these industries primarily seek surplus profit?
History suggests otherwise. Sri Lanka has repeatedly remained at the primary manufacturing level within neoliberal industries. The ready-made garment industry, part of the global corporate fashion system, provides evidence: it exploited both manufacturing labourers and brand representatives during structural economic changes in the 1980s. The same pattern now threatens to repeat in the artificial intelligence sector, raising concerns about who truly benefits from these education reforms
That historical material supports the claim that the primary manufacturing labour for the artificial intelligence industry will similarly come from these workers, who are now being trained as skilled employees who follow the system rather than question it. This context can be theorised through Luxemburg’s claim that critical thinking training becomes a privileged instrument, alienating the working class from such training, an approach that neoliberalism prefers to adopt in the global South.
Institutional and Structural Gaps
Though the government aims to address the institutional and structural gaps, I claim that these gaps will instead widen due to the deeply rooted system of uneven distribution in the country. While agreeing to establish smart classrooms, the critical query is the absence of a wide technological welfare system across the country. From electricity to smart equipment, resources remain inadequate, and the government lags behind in taking prompt initiative to meet these requirements.
This issue is not only about the unavailability of human and material infrastructure, but also about the absence of a plan to restore smart normalcy after natural disasters, particularly the resumption of smart network connections. Access to smart learning platforms, such as the internet, for schoolchildren is a high-risk factor that requires not only the monitoring of classroom teachers but also the involvement of the state. The state needs to be vigilant of abuses and disinformation present in the smart-learning space, an area in which Sri Lanka is still lagging. This concern is not only about the safety of children but also about the safety of women. For example, the recent case of abusive image production via Elon Musk’s AI chatbox, X, highlights the urgent need for a legal framework in Sri Lanka.
Considering its geographical location, Sri Lanka is highly vulnerable to natural disasters, the frequency in which they occur, increasing, owing to climate change. Ditwah is a recent example, where villages were buried alive by landslides, rivers overflowed, and families were displaced, losing homes that they had built over their lifetimes. The critical question, then, is: despite the government’s promise to integrate climate change into the curriculum, how can something still ‘in the air ‘with climate adaptation plans yet to be fully established, be effectively incorporated into schools?
Looking at the demographic map of the country, the expansion of the elderly population, the dependent category, requires attention. Considering the physical and psychological conditions of this group, fostering “intelligent, civic-minded” citizens necessitates understanding the elderly not as a charity case but as a human group deserving dignity. This reflects a critical reading of the reform content: what, indeed, is to be taught? This critical aspect further links with the next section of reflective of ground reality.
Reflective Narrative of Ground Reality
Despite the government asserting that the “teacher” is central to this reform, critical engagement requires examining how their labour is recognised. In Sri Lanka, teachers’ work has long been tied to social recognition, both utilised and exploited, Teachers receive low salaries while handling multiple roles: teaching, class management, sectional duties, and disciplinary responsibilities.
At present, a total teaching load is around 35 periods a week, with 28 periods spent in classroom teaching. The reform adds continuous assessments, portfolio work, projects, curriculum preparation, peer coordination, and e-knowledge, to the teacher’s responsibilities. These are undeclared forms of labour, meaning that the government assigns no economic value to them; yet teachers perform these tasks as part of a long-standing culture. When this culture is unpacked, the gendered nature of this undeclared labour becomes clear. It is gendered because the majority of schoolteachers are women, and their unpaid roles remain unrecognised. It is worth citing some empirical narratives to illustrate this point:
“When there was an extra-school event, like walks, prize-giving, or new openings, I stayed after school to design some dancing and practice with the students. I would never get paid for that extra time,” a female dance teacher in the Western Province shared.
I cite this single empirical account, and I am certain that many teachers have similar stories to share.
Where the curriculum is concerned, schoolteachers struggle to complete each lesson as planned due to time constraints and poor infrastructure. As explained by a teacher in the Central Province:
“It is difficult to have a reliable internet connection. Therefore, I use the hotspot on my phone so the children can access the learning material.”
Using their own phones and data for classroom activities is not part of a teacher’s official duties, but a culture has developed around the teaching role that makes such decisions necessary. Such activities related to labour risks further exploitation under the reform if the state remains silent in providing the necessary infrastructure.
Considering that women form the majority of the teaching profession, none of the reforms so far have taken women’s health issues seriously. These issues could be exacerbated by the extra stress arising from multiple job roles. Many female teachers particularly those with young children, those in peri- or post-menopause stages of their life, or those with conditions like endometriosis may experience aggravated health problems due to work-related stress intensified by the reform. This raises a critical question: what role does the state play in addressing these issues?
In Conclusion
The following suggestions are put forward:
First and foremost, the government should clearly declare the fundamental plan of the reform, highlighting why, what, when, and how it will be implemented. This plan should be grounded in the realities of the classroom, focusing on being child-centred and teacher-focused.
Technological welfare interventions are necessary, alongside a legal framework to ensure the safety and security of accessing the smart, information-centred world. Furthermore, teachers’ labour should be formally recognised and assigned economic value. Currently, under neoliberal logic, teachers are often left to navigate these challenges on their own, as if the choice is between survival or collapse.
Aruni Samarakoon teaches at the Department of Public Policy, University of Ruhuna
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Aruni Samarakoon
Features
Smartphones and lyrics stands…
Diliup Gabadamudalige is, indeed, a maestro where music is concerned, and this is what he had to say, referring to our Seen ‘N’ Heard in The Island of 6th January, 2026, and I totally agree with his comments.
Diliup: “AI avatars will take over these concerts. It will take some time, but it surely will happen in the near future. Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc. Lyrics and dance moves, even gymnastics can be pre-trained”.
Yes, and that would certainly be unsettling as those without talent will make use of AI to deceive the public.
Right now at most events you get the stage crowded with lyrics stands and, to make matters even worse, some of the artistes depend on the smartphone to put over a song – checking out the lyrics, on the smartphone, every few seconds!
In the good ole days, artistes relied on their talent, stage presence, and memorisation skills to dominate the stage.
They would rehearse till they knew the lyrics by heart and focus on connecting with the audience.

Smartphones and lyrics stands: A common sight these days
The ability of the artiste to keep the audience entertained, from start to finish, makes a live performance unforgettable That’s the magic of a great show!
When an artiste’s energy is contagious, and they’re clearly having a blast, the audience feeds off it and gets taken on an exciting ride. It’s like the whole crowd is vibing on the same frequency.
Singing with feeling, on stage, creates this electric connection with the audience, but it can’t be done with a smartphone in one hand and lyrics stands lined up on the stage.
AI’s gonna shake things up in the music scene, for sure – might replace some roles, like session musicians or sound designers – but human talent will still shine!
AI can assist, but it’s tough to replicate human emotion, experience, and soul in music.
In the modern world, I guess artistes will need to blend old-school vibes with new tech but certainly not with smartphones and lyrics stands!
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