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Mixed experiences with online learning among neurodiverse youth: Evidence from video recordings of a longitudinal study [1]

['Celeste Campos-Castillo', 'Department Of Media', 'Information', 'Michigan State University', 'East Lansing', 'Michigan', 'United States Of America', 'Elise Atkinson']

Date: 2024-10

Among those for whom there were heightened concerns regarding the pivot to online learning during the COVID-19 pandemic were neurodiverse youth. Despite the preponderance of research into online learning during the pandemic, relatively few studies have directly observed the experiences of neurodiverse youth. We present findings from a longitudinal study in which we qualitatively analyzed using an idiographic approach the nearly 2,000 minutes of video recordings of 9 neurodiverse youth learning digital art design via the Zoom platform. The themes we developed from the patterns observed suggest how online learning may both enable and inhibit neurodiverse students’ syncing their communication with ongoing conversations with others, achieving intersubjectivity (shared understanding) with others, coping with frustration, and personal disclosures for building rapport with others. Notably, we observed evidence suggestive of benefits and detriments of online learning for each neurodiverse youth. We discuss implications for the design and implementation of online learning opportunities for neurodiverse youth.

Funding: The research reported in this paper was supported by the College of Communication Arts and Sciences at Michigan State University (to CC) and the National Endowment for the Arts (to CC) under award 1891727-38-22. Funders played no role in the study design, data collection and analysis, decision to publish, or preparation of the manuscript.

Data Availability: Ethical restrictions limit making the videos and transcripts publicly available, because participants did not consent to their videos being shared and only consented to have their transcripts shared after the final report to the National Endowment for the Arts. Requests to access de-identified transcripts may be sent to [email protected] .

Copyright: © 2024 Campos-Castillo, Atkinson. This is an open access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License , which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited.

We advance scholarship on experiences with online learning among neurodiverse youth by reporting on findings from a longitudinal study in which we qualitatively analyzed an underutilized data source: video recordings of neurodiverse youth engaged in learning. Specifically, the neurodiverse students sampled were enrolled in a five-week workshop to learn digital art design. We leverage the study design using an idiosyncratic approach [ 30 , 31 ] by showing positive and negative experiences with online learning within each neurodiverse student. Thus, findings indicate online learning is not a monolithic experience, but rather changes based on the situations that individuals encounter. Moreover, by relying on video recordings, we overcome limitations of relying on self-, caregiver-, and teacher-reports. We discuss the implications for designing and implementing online learning opportunities that diminish the likelihood of negative experiences while enhancing the likelihood of positive experiences for neurodiverse youth. Given the aforementioned interest among scholars and practitioners in online learning for neurodiverse youth that predated the pandemic, such insights are likely to remain relevant now that the public health emergency has ended.

Another likely contributor to mixed findings are the diverse sources of data. Completion of self-reports by neurodiverse youth presents several challenges, including the lack of valid, reliable, and accessible scales tailored for the population [ 22 – 26 ]. To overcome this obstacle, researchers may turn to guardian-reported outcomes, but these may be biased. For example, guardian-reported self-esteem tends to be lower than youth-reported among neurodiverse youth, but not for neurotypical youth [ 27 ]. Less typically collected was observational video data included in qualitative analyses [ 15 , 18 , 28 , 29 ], which is what we obtained in the current study.

The mixed findings may be due in part to the diverse approaches to online learning, with several approaches being investigated for their effectiveness in supporting neurodiverse youth even before the COVID-19 pandemic. The different approaches entailed differences in modalities and topic domains. Modalities included both virtual reality initiatives and video calls across various platforms, while topic domains included group challenges, physical exercise classes, mentoring sessions, among others [ 15 – 18 ]. Online learning experiences resulted in a range of positive outcomes, such as improvements in life skills, adaptation to remote learning settings, and increased levels of interpersonal communication and physical exercise, although improvements varied between individuals [ 15 – 17 ]. Concerns were raised too, with challenges related to access and engagement with online learning platforms reported, particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic [ 19 – 21 ]. These issues underscore the complexity of addressing the diverse needs of neurodiverse individuals through online learning and highlight the importance of ongoing research into their design and implementation.

The widespread disruption when U.S. schools pivoted to online learning in 2020 to curb the spread of SARS-CoV-2 raised concerns about potentially harmful effects on youth [ 1 , 2 ]. Among those for whom there were heightened concerns were neurodiverse youth [ 3 – 5 ], which we refer to as individuals who have neurological and cognitive functions not considered typical, including autism spectrum disorder (ASD), attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and dyslexia. While distinct from one another, neurodiverse groups share some similarities in experiences, such as facing stigma within learning settings because they neither communicate nor perform speech and motor tasks in ways considered typical [ 6 – 9 ]. Concerns about pivoting to online learning for neurodiverse groups included diminished social connectedness, disruptions to routines, losing access to services, and, despite longstanding assumptions that some neurodiverse groups (the ASD group) are “naturals” at using technology [ 10 ], the inability to navigate online platforms successfully [ 3 – 5 , 11 ]. While several studies show evidence confirming that these concerns materialized [ 12 , 13 ], others show contradictory evidence, with some depicting within the same set of findings a complex set of outcomes that were both positive and negative for neurodiverse youth [ 4 , 5 , 11 , 14 ].

For each theme, we reviewed representative excerpts from each individual transcript to consider the data as a whole. We used the constant comparative method [ 37 ] to refine the contours of each theme. The resulting four themes we developed represent affordances of online learning, with each theme depicting both positive and negative outcomes for the neurodiverse research participants. Given the depth of detail gleaned from recording participants longitudinally, each participant had at least one excerpt that typified each theme, though it was not always the case that each participant had excerpts across the full breadth (positive and negative outcomes) of a theme. To preserve the idiographic focus and leverage the complexity and texture of the details, we selected for presentation of each theme one participant whose experiences typified the full breadth of a theme. This enables depicting instances within each student in which the online modality likely enriched their experiences and other instances within the same student in which it was likely a detriment. Thus, an advantage of an idiographic approach is demonstrating how online learning is not a monolithic experience, but rather can change dynamically for any given student because the situations in which they use the technology changes [ 31 ]. We present vignettes for four students that summarize how online learning was both a benefit and detriment to each.

The authors achieved thematic saturation after reviewing the ninth transcript, in that no new codes were developed [ 36 ]. This threshold point was confirmed further during weekly meetings to discuss the remaining transcripts. The remaining transcripts were split evenly between the authors so that only one author analyzed and applied the codebook to a transcript. The authors continued to meet weekly to discuss their analysis of a transcript, in which it was revealed that no new codes were needed to summarize patterns.

Both authors began analyzing the transcripts using thematic analysis [ 35 ]. The thematic analysis began with open coding, whereby each author independently reviewed the transcripts of all recorded sessions for a neurodiverse student and developed codes to summarize patterns. This gave way to an idiographic focus [ 30 ], in which the holistic experience of an individual participant is the focus of the analysis. The authors met weekly to review the codes they developed and discuss axial codes, which summarize themes in the codes. During these meetings, they continued to discuss potential differences in experiences based on the art design software used.

Analysis began by the authors familiarizing themselves with the data and discussing potential differences in student experiences based on the art design software used. The discussion was further facilitated by the fact that both authors were involved in recording sessions, and thereby were familiar with a breadth of experiences. The backgrounds of the authors are also complementary. Specifically, the first author is an expert in qualitative analysis of data from youth while the second is an expert in art design software. Both are familiar with neurodiversity through community outreach.

Sessions were transcribed automatically using both Zoom and Microsoft. A research assistant reviewed the video recordings and transcripts for accuracy. The assistant selected pseudonyms to use in place of real names and redacted any personally identifiable information from the transcripts.

Video recordings were obtained from observing 9 neurodiverse students enrolled in a typical 5-session art design workshop. The students ranged in age from 10 to 25, with 8 males and 1 female. Each student was recorded at least once. Instances in which a student was not recorded included technical malfunction, student absence, and lack of consent (from adult students and from guardians for students who were minors). In total, there are 30 session recordings, representing approximately 2,000 minutes of video recordings.

Beginning one week prior to the first session of a workshop up to its start time, researchers emailed eligible students and their guardians up to three times to invite them to participate in the study. The email provided them with an overview of the study and links to consent/assent forms. Parents/guardians and students over the age of 18 provided written consent and minors provided written assent.

Creative Oasis shared with us the names, age, and contact information of neurodiverse students who registered for their art design workshops. For minors, they also shared the names and contact information of the student’s guardian. Prior to a researcher making contact, Creative Oasis staff sent students and guardians an email to let them know that they would receive an invitation to participate in a research study and that their participation was completely voluntary.

For the final 10 to 15 minutes of each session, everyone returned to the main Zoom room so that each student could screenshare and show the progress they made on their artwork. While each student presented, the moderator would probe about the process of creating the artwork, such as by asking whether the student had to solve any problems or learned new software tools. Each student’s presentation lasted approximately 2 to 3 minutes and ended with other students and mentors offering praise and suggestions for next steps.

A session starts with the moderator welcoming everyone and providing them with an icebreaker question, to which the students could volunteer a response by unmuting their microphone or typing into the chat. The moderator would then send each student and their mentor to a Zoom breakout room, where the two would work together on the student’s artwork. The researcher would join the breakout room, turn off their video to minimize disruption, and record. The time spent working on the student’s artwork in the breakout room ranged from 45 to 60 minutes. Throughout this time, the moderator would switch between breakout rooms to monitor progress and intervene as necessary, such as assisting with technical problems that arose.

Each of the five sessions begins with a prep meeting in the main Zoom room. The prep meeting begins approximately 15 minutes prior to a session’s official start time with the Creative Oasis staff who are tasked with providing support for the session. Staff present include the workshop moderator, software support technicians, mentors assigned to each student, and backup mentors who would step in when a student’s usual mentor had to cancel or exit a session unexpectedly. The researcher(s) who would record sessions, which included the two authors and research assistants, would also log in at this time and introduce themselves to the group. The workshop moderator granted the researcher(s) co-host privileges, enabling them to record and enter or exist breakout rooms as needed. Students would log in to the Zoom session and wait in the waiting room for the session to start.

The student decided on the design software, which was either for creating 2D or 3D art. The latter was always Blender and the former was Adobe Illustrator (hereafter, Illustrator), Adobe Photoshop (hereafter, Photoshop), or Procreate. Blender, Illustrator, and Photoshop were run on either a desktop or laptop computer, while Procreate was run on an Apple iPad (hereafter, iPad). When a student in a 2D art workshop elected to use Procreate, the student and mentor would each log into the Zoom session using both an iPad and a webcam-enabled computer, thereby allowing each the option to screenshare the iPad they were using while simultaneously sharing their face via the computer. Most often the student would screenshare their iPad while both the student and mentor shared their face via their computers; the mentor would only screenshare their iPad as needed.

During a Creative Oasis workshop, the neurodiverse student and their assigned mentor work collaboratively to design digital artwork, which would then be printed on poster board for the student to take home. The mentor is an adult who demonstrates proficiency with the design software that the student uses in the workshop, described momentarily. The student selects the subject of the digital artwork and may use the five sessions to work toward creating either a single artwork or multiple artworks and then decide which one to print. A typical workshop comprises five 75-minute sessions, with each session meeting weekly at the same time and day. To accommodate school schedules, sessions are held either on weekday evenings or during the day on weekends. While Creative Oasis offers workshops in other configurations (e.g., five 75-minute sessions occurring throughout one week over the summer), we only observed students enrolled in the typical configuration to develop general principles.

An important outcome of the community outreach activities was text in the consent/assent forms to emphasize to neurodiverse youth in accessible language that their participation was completely voluntary and that they may withdraw after enrolling. While such text is a requirement in consent/assent forms, guardians expressed concerns that neurodiverse youth who enroll in the study may feel obligated to enroll and continue, despite feeling overwhelmed by study procedures (like the recordings). Accordingly, both the consent (for adults) and assent (for minors) forms for neurodiverse youth stated at the beginning: “We’re inviting you to be a part of a research study. A research study is a way to learn new things. You don’t have to be in this study. It is up to you. If you say yes now, but change your mind later, that’s ok too. Just let me know.”

Prior to obtaining approval for study procedures, the researchers conducted outreach activities with neurodiverse youth and their families to obtain input on the study design and gain their trust. The lead author attended in-person and online art design workshops held by Creative Oasis to introduce herself and discuss the proposed study. She held a focus group that met for three one-hour sessions with three guardians of neurodiverse students attending a workshop to obtain their iterative feedback on the wording of consent/assent forms, outcomes to measure, and best practices for recording workshop sessions. To maximize input from families who were unable to sit for an in-person focus group session, she scheduled 30 to 60-minute telephone and Zoom conversations with interested guardians and also conducted brief (5–10 minutes) informal conversations with families and students before, during, and after workshop sessions.

To be eligible to enroll in a workshop, an individual requires either a professional diagnosis or the professional judgment of Creative Oasis staff that they have characteristics consistent with neurodiversity. The latter enables addressing biases in access to clinical professionals who formally diagnose and in the diagnostic tools that they use [ 32 , 33 ]. Of those who meet this criteria, Creative Oasis staff further distinguish between those with and without the capability to work with a mentor who shows them how to design digital art during the workshop. Specifically, a neurodiverse individual is eligible to enroll if an interview with Creative Oasis staff suggests their social communication and any presence of repeated, restricted behaviors are consistent with a Level 1 (requiring support) or 2 (requiring substantial support) diagnosis for autism spectrum disorder [ 34 ]. While students presented with characteristics consistent with neurodiverse conditions besides autism spectrum disorder, Creative Oasis staff used this criteria as a guideline to determine who was likely able to sit for the entirety of a workshop session and communicate successfully with their assigned mentor about how to use the software to complete their art design project. The use of the criteria is consistent with research suggesting distinct neurodiverse groups communicate and perform speech and motor tasks in ways that are not considered typical [ 6 – 9 ].

The non-profit organization that hosts the digital art design workshops from which we obtained data, Creative Oasis (a pseudonym), is located in a mid-sized city in the Midwestern region of the United States. The workshops are among several digital art-focused programs targeted specifically for neurodiverse individuals. Data were collected November 2022 to May 2023, a time in which Creative Oasis was offering both in-person and online workshops.

Results

Syncing communication Gerardo is a male in his late teens who relies on the Rapid Prompting Method to communicate [38], with his mother as his aide. His mother holds a letter board in the air and asks him a question, to which he replies by pointing to the letters to spell out his response. As Gerardo points to a letter, his mother says the letter out loud and then states the word that was spelled. Occasionally, she asks Gerardo to say a word out loud on his own and he succeeds. For his workshop, Gerardo is working with his mentor to design artwork using Procreate. Despite video conferencing platforms like Zoom providing the affordance of synchronous communication, Gerardo’s use of the Rapid Prompting Method introduces disruptions into the flow of communication with his mentor. For example, Gerardo’s first session begins with his mentor asking his thoughts on school and education. The mentor gets no immediate response, so then asks, “So have we given any thought to what our project will be?” Gerardo is pointing to the letters on the board that his mother is holding up in the air. Eventually, his mother states, “OK, so an answer to your last question, Gerardo just said education is great.” Gerardo’s use of synchronous channels of communication, like video conferencing platforms, are experienced asynchronously because his reliance on communication aids like the Rapid Prompting Method produces responses out of sync with the flow of others’ conversation. Accordingly, any benefits of synchronous over asynchronous communication for student outcomes [39] risk getting diminished. At the same time, however, Gerardo has Zoom experiences that are typical of others, in which his reliance on a communication aid like the Rapid Prompting Method appears less disruptive to the flow of conversation. With the rapid shift toward videoconferencing to maintain physical distance during the COVID-19 pandemic, unintentional “Zoom bombing” by young children, roommates, and pets became frequent to the point that people became less likely to feel embarrassed when it happened [40]. A “Zoom bombing” incident occurred while Gerardo and his mentor were discussing what he would add to his artwork, which was comprised of a series of musical instruments: Mentor: Do you have an instrument in mind? Gerardo’s mother (while Gerardo points to letters on the board): Go ahead.’V’. Can you say the letters? ‘V,’ ‘I,’ ‘O’. Tell [mentor] what does that spell. Gerardo: Violin Mentor: Violin ok awesome. Well, if I remember right, we did pick a picture of a violin for your name tag. Do you want to use that picture? We could also find another one. Your call. Gerardo’s mother (while Gerardo points to letters on the board): ‘A,’ then ‘N’. Ohh there’s her kitty. The mentor’s cat had unexpectedly jumped onto her desk and was visible in the Zoom meeting. Gerardo continued pointing to letters on the board while the dialogue continued: Mentor: Yes, she’s very stinky right now. But here she is. Gerardo’s mother: Oh, look at how pretty she is. Mentor: I know she’s gorgeous and she’s such a monster. Gerardo’s mother (to Gerardo): Did you see her? Isn’t she beautiful? Mentor: I just came home for the first time today, so she’ll be asking for my attention this entire time. Gerardo’s Mother: That’s good, good. We’ll have to see her again. He said another violin another, he said. Like other instances of unintentional “Zoom bombing” from household members [40], the subject of conversation turned to the “bomber,” in this case the mentor’s cat. The break in the conversation afforded Gerardo the time to catch up and continue spelling his response to the mentor’s question, which his mother relayed was that he wanted to pick another picture of a violin. Because of the interruption from the cat, which is unlikely in a more formal in-person setting, Gerardo was able to work toward syncing his response with the conversation about what to do next for his artwork.

Coping with technology Kaya is a White male in his early twenties who chose to work with Blender during his workshop. When faced with an unexpected technology problem, Kaya appears visibly frustrated. However, while other neurodiverse youth may labor with regulating frustration [41, 42], he appears to manage it well because he quickly shifts into making verbal statements that declare he can fix it. The online learning format seemed to enhance Kaya’s ability to cope with frustration over technology problems. At the start of the third session, Kaya’s screenshare shows a three-dimensional alien he has been designing. The mentor says, “So I remember last time we talked about possibly wanting to make this glow. Do you still want to do that?” Kaya responds affirmatively. The mentor then uses the annotation tool to draw a small circle around the rendering option to the right to direct Kaya to click on and expand it to see whether the option they are looking for, the bloom option, appears. Kaya follows through with the direction, but the bloom option does not appear. This is due to Blender being in the default render setting, ‘Cycles’, which does not offer the bloom option. The mentor uses the annotation tool to again direct Kaya to click on and expand another option, and Kaya obliges, but still no success in finding the bloom option. For approximately the next four minutes, the process of the mentor directing Kaya to click around and Kaya obliging repeats as the mentor tries to recall how to make the alien glow. Kaya begins to rub his hand on his face and appears frustrated. The mentor tells Kaya, “All right, one moment and I will be right back with you.” One minute of silence between them passes while the mentor multitasks by looking up online on her own computer how to access the bloom option. The mentor finds the information online and successfully directs Kaya toward making his alien glow. Thus, while multitasking during online meetings may at times pose distractions and inhibit engagement with others, it can also improve wellbeing by boosting productivity, especially when the multitasking is to look up information that would enhance the meeting experience [43]. In Kaya’s case, the mentor’s multitasking with her own computer appears to have curtailed his growing frustration with being unable to locate the tool to make his alien glow. Later in the same session, technology not only obstructs Kaya’s ability to cope but further aggravates the situation. Kaya has now designed two aliens and is trying to move one by selecting all the meshes and moving them on one axis. He struggles to do so and exclaims while throwing his hands in the air, “I don’t know what to do.” As is typical of Kaya’s character during the workshop, he quickly reassures himself and says, “I do know what to do,” and his mentor follows suit by saying, “You got this.” He tries again, unsuccessfully, and states he does not know what to do. The mentor then intervenes and states, “I might have a solution for us. I’m going to request remote control access and I’m going to see if I can do it.” The mentor gains remote control access, but as she moves the alien forward, she unintentionally made it oversized. Kaya suggests using his keyboard to undo what the mentor did and try again on his own to select the meshes using keyboard shortcuts, but continues to struggle: “And no, no. Whenever I press G this happens.” At the moment, a viewer cannot see what Kaya is referencing. Eventually, we learn that the key combination he was pressing on the keyboard initiated the Game Bar, but because Kaya had only selected to screenshare the Blender app, a viewer could not apprehend the problem fully. Kaya continues to try to solve the problem on his own, but then pleas for his mentor to help: And but but but. We can do this. Oh, and then ‘G.’ What is it? I should be quiet. No, what’s happening? No, I can do this, I swear. Wait a minute. I’m pressing the wrong thing. No, something’s wrong. I need help. What do you want me to do? No, I can stop this… No, no, no, this is bad. I can’t hear you. I can’t understand you. You’re glitching out…I am at my worst. Complicating the scenario further, the mentor’s video froze and began glitching because her internet connection became unstable. Kaya spent approximately 5 minutes attempting to cope with the problem alone, when eventually the workshop moderator entered his breakout room. However, because she could only view what Kaya elected to screenshare via Zoom–Blender–she could not determine the problem. Kaya stands up from his seat and paces in front of the webcamera. The moderator looks at Kaya’s surroundings and asks Kaya if he is at his mother or father’s house and he responds he is at his mother’s house. Kaya gestures to someone off camera and the viewer sees it is his mother, who has arrived to join him approximately 11 minutes after the start of the mentor’s video freezing, and the two of them decide it is best for him to exit the online session, which he does. The mentor and the moderator debrief about what transpired and the mentor discloses, “That’s when I wish I could be there in person with him.”

Achieving intersubjectivity Matthew is a male in his early twenties. The quality of his speech, including the pitch of his voice, speech prosody, and sentence structure can make it difficult at times to understand the words he says. Indeed, the automated Zoom transcript that was generated for his sessions often missed his statements completely, because it could not discern that someone had said something. For his workshop, he is using Procreate. Matthew’s first session begins with him logged in via his webcam-enabled laptop, but he experiences a typical technical problem for Zoom meetings because of the default settings [44]: his camera is turned off. The mentor asks him if his video is turned on, to which he replies, ‘yes.’ However, his video is not visible. Matthew’s father arrives and resolves the technical issue, but new ones arise. The mentor begins to introduce herself and set the stage for the following weeks, but Matthew’s statements appear to be misaligned with hers: Mentor: Nice to meet you Matthew…we’re gonna be making our posters for the next few weeks on Procreate. Matthew: I’m on the basement computer. Mentor: You’re on the basement computer. And then are you gonna use Procreate on your? Do you have an iPad that you’re gonna use it on? Matthew: I have an iPad and then I’m going to use it. While Zoom affords the ability to leverage the visual channel of communication, it is limited by what can be shown on the screen. In this scenario with Matthew, intersubjectivity, which is a shared understanding between individuals [45], is hampered in part by missing visual cues, specifically the mentor being unable to see that Matthew has an iPad because it is out of view from his laptop’s webcam. Moreover, Matthew’s sentence structure further hinders intersubjectivity, even with his father, who is physically present and attempting to assist Matthew in setting up for this first session: Matthew’s father: Can you share [the iPad] with [mentor] or do you need to work on your laptop? Matthew: We can share. Matthew’s Father: OK. You know more than I do. Mentor: There’s always some sort of technical difficulties, right? Matthew: OK, then join me on a small zoom. Mentor: What did you say? Matthew’s father: I’m not sure what [Matthew’s] trying to do. He’s trying to rejoin the meeting on his iPad, I don’t know. Matthew joins the Zoom meeting via the iPad while remaining logged into the meeting via the laptop, which is the intended setup for Procreate workshop sessions. He was able to solve a subset of the technical difficulties on his own. However, his sentence structure coupled with imperfect visual channels during videoconferencing appears to have kept others unaware of his intentions. Other times, Matthew’s use of the affordances of Zoom appear to facilitate achieving intersubjectivity. Toward the end of a session, Matthew began initiating conversation with his mentor and asked, “Do you remember Bing and Bong’s Tiny Planets?” At first, the mentor had difficulty apprehending what he said and responded, “Say that one more time. What was that, Matthew?” Matthew repeated his utterance and the mentor replied, “I do not, I feel like I’ve seen it before, but it’s deep in my memory.” At this point, Matthew screenshares an artwork he completed previously and said, “it mysteriously disappeared in 2003.” The mentor stares at the artwork Matthew screenshared and asks, “Was it, I’m guessing, was it a TV show?” Matthew responds affirmatively and clarifies it was a children’s show. Matthew’s speech quality made it difficult for the mentor to understand his reference. Further inhibiting intersubjectivity was that the reference was to a twenty-year-old show that was not very popular (it ran 65 episodes over a span of a year and a half). However, the affordance of screensharing allowed the mentor to infer that the reference was to a television show, thereby facilitating intersubjectivity.

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[1] Url: https://journals.plos.org/mentalhealth/article?id=10.1371/journal.pmen.0000167

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