I hate it when two polarised arguments have a fist-fight in my brain and I’m cheering for both sides. Some would say that conflict of thought demonstrates a more complex, nuanced understanding of the dilemma. Not me. I see my lack of binary, right or wrong, as dithering. And I can’t be doing with a ditherer. 

For many years, I’ve taught people with learning difficulties and disabilities (LDD). Groups of young people straight from specialist schools, groups of mature students in FE colleges, and in all sorts of venues in the community. My youngest students are 16; my oldest are in their mid-70s. Young or old, all of them are adults. This brings me to the head-scratcher in question: I don’t know how I feel about adults with LDD being encouraged to enjoy media content that is aimed at children. 

When I see a 45-year-old arrive with a Bob The Builder lunchbox, my judgey instinct prickles. Not in judgement of the person carrying it, but fretting about whether my own fuelling of that individual’s love of Bob is the most developmentally helpful thing to do. Because an adult might have the cognitive abilities of a much younger person, that does not mean they should be encouraged to behave in childlike ways or adopt childlike tastes. Infantilisation of adults is patronising and doesn’t necessarily support growth of independent skills.

‘Not defined by disabilities’

My learners are not children, nor are they defined by their disabilities. In fact, when teaching younger people in FE colleges with LDD, the most obvious thing they have in common is always their teenage pain-in-the-backside-ness! Just because a 17-year-old has a disability, it doesn’t mean they are exempt from the highs and lows that most teenagers are hit with at that stage in life. 

The misconception that people with LDD are all alike is hugely insulting. This fallacy is especially notable when it comes to people with Down’s Syndrome, who have some commonality in physical appearance. A head-tilted sympathy emerges, which boils my piss. “Ahhhh, they’re so loving.” That’s right, they are. Sometimes. And a million other things too. It’s almost as if they were a real-life human with a real-life emotional range. Grrrrrrrrr. I’ve triggered myself off on a rant-quake now… 

Honestly, when my new hairdresser recently described my job as “cute”, I had to muzzle myself. That was until she went onto describe Barack Obama as “cute” and a cup of coffee as “cute” and I realised her definition of the word was very different to mine. 

Individuality above all

I think my kneejerk reaction of feeling uncomfortable when seeing adult students embrace child-like interests has to do with my own instinct to protect them from projecting a false impression of simplicity. To protect them from being labelled as “cute”, a description that diminishes all the other things that they are as unique individuals. 

To me, the most common trait that my adult learners share is that they embrace their own individuality. I have one learner who comes out with such fascinating, seemingly random statements that make complete sense to him, even when challenged. He is so sure of his opinions that I wish I could take a tour of his brain to find out how his own logical journey is mapped, I’m sure I could learn from him. He is a magically complicated and truly interesting bloke. 

And individually is something that’s definitely worth celebrating so - and here’s the other side of my argument. If a 45-year-old is potty for Bob the Builder, shouldn’t they have absolute power to demonstrate that in the enthusiastic carrying of a lunchbox? 

See, I’ve done my own head in. 

Double standards?

Bob the Builder, Thomas the Tank, Fireman Sam. This sort of media is intended for children, but there are no rules for who can enjoy it. Harry Potter was originally aimed at children, so was The Muppet Show, but I’m a fan of both and see no problem with that. I can go from zero to full giddy wonderment at all sorts of things that are probably considered juvenile - the ceremonial opening of a fresh conker, pots of brightly coloured glitter, watching a cake slowly inflate in the oven - but those joys don’t define, undermine or denigrate me, they’re just stuff I like. 

So why, therefore, would it be bad for an adult with LDD to take pleasure from those things, too? 

The people who have the most prominent influence on most of my students are their families. 

I don’t know the lifelong journeys that have taken place within families, for my students to get to the point they are at now. Most have achieved some elements of independence, are polite, kind, interested and able to express they own opinion.

For some, I know it will have been an epic journey to get to this point. And if I was a parent who has been that journey’s guide, I’m fairly sure that a bit of Bob the Builder would be inconsequential, if that’s who my son or daughter was into. I’m also fairly sure my reaction to the merest hint of any sort of unrequested disapproval, whether steeped in good intention or not, would be “Mind your own ‘effin’ business”. And rightly so…OR IS IT? 

I dunno.

Sarah Simons works in colleges and adult community education in the East Midlands and is the director of UKFEchat. She tweets @MrsSarahSimons