The “DIFFERENCE Is Not DEFICIT” Project
A New Community Vision for Special Education
Our schools are not built for a typical students. In fact, it seems we have specifically built systems that aim to pathologize and marginalize anyone outside the so called “norms.” So despite the work of civil rights activists, and fields like disability studies, many students with “invisible disabilities” find themselves lost in the chaos of schooling designed for a very specific type of learner.
These systems do not just make life hard for students or parents. Many educators, eager to help and understand their students’ differences, find themselves limited by the rigidity of the traditional special education system. But the truth is, change is possible and individual people, students, parents, therapists, advocates, and educators continue to fight to make necessary changes. The Difference is Not Deficit Project is a place to share the individual stories of these struggles so we can use them to improve the system from the inside out. Stories matter. Each of our failures, fights, and triumphs matter.
How did you feel? How did you fight? How did you fail? How did you overcome? Please share your unique story so we can learn from your experiences and work to build a more just system based on our shared struggles and our common goals.
Share as much or as little of your information as you like. All the fields are optional so you can submit your story completely anonymously if that’s your preference.
Anonymous
September 25, 2023
My husband was in grade school in the 1960’s. He told me he was always getting into trouble. When he was in Catholic school the nuns could not control how active he was. He was the “class clown”, he said and he spent many days cleaning the pews in the adjoining Catholic Church as punishment for not listening or talking or whatever he would do because he struggled with attention and focus. He survived high school because he was a musician. He came from a Polish family and had learned to play the accordion starting at 6 years old. He had a band, and even though he wasn’t a great academic student, he was good in music. He even became president of his sophomore class.
Many years later, he changed careers and went to USC Graduate School of Social Work. He struggled in a class completing papers and tests. He had a professor who told him she would help him pass the class if he went to the disability office and got tested. He did and he was diagnosed with ADHD. By then he was older he was not hyperactive. And he also had the comorbidities of anxiety and depression. The disability office gave him classroom accommodations to give his professors, a therapist to meet with, and a writing coach. He was also able to take his exams in the disability office. One professor, however, looked at his accommodations and told my husband that he didn’t think he had ADHD and wasn’t going to give him an extension because he didn’t see him “moving around the classroom”. My husband went to his Dean and they had a meeting with this professor. The therapist in the Disability Office coached my husband on how to address this professor in the meetng. The Dean was supportive of my husband because she understood ADHD and Executive Functioning deficits. The professor obviously was ignorant of learning differences and student needs.
My husband passed all his classes and ended up working as a palliative care social worker at the VA Hospital in West LA.
Anonymous
August 20, 2023
I currently work at a private educational institution as an academic counselor. Our school did not have an extensive special education program to assist incoming students from public schools with IEPs or 504 plans. Basic supports were implemented, but nothing comprehensive. When I began my role, I requested that teachers meet with me to review accommodation plans and offer insights into students’ performance in class. I encouraged them to discuss strengths and areas for improvement. Teachers were willing to share successful interventions with each other.
Another change I initiated was advocating for students at the district level. Given our private school status, students needed to be referred to the district for evaluations. During my second semester as a counselor at this institution, I reached out to the district to inquire about updates regarding the evaluation request. This involved an in-person visit, several phone messages, and a series of emails to arrange a meeting. After some delays, we finally secured a meeting with the district’s special education program coordinator for private schools within our district. I experienced frustration during this process due to the extended timeline required to access the support we needed for one of our students. While I understand the district’s workload, they should strive to streamline communication for educators.
During the meeting, the coordinator mentioned scheduling a follow-up meeting and providing resources to assist us in offering services and interventions to students. Unfortunately, she never responded to my email when I requested this information. I’m pleased to report that we have since hired a learning specialist and a linguistic specialist who will provide internal support within our school.
Anonymous
June 20, 2023
When my husband got a job in a new city, I could not get my public school teaching certificate transferred. As a result, I began working at an independent school as a learning specialist. I became suddenly aware that many independent schools, including “progressive” ones, do not modify curricula for students. These schools hold to a level of rigor that is often higher than the expected grade level, and they rely on families to pay for outside tutoring and educational therapy on top of the exorbitant annual tuition fees so that students can keep up with the work.
Despite extensive and expensive tutoring, a student – who I will call Jennifer – at the independent school where I work, was failing her math class and struggling in her other classes too. Jennifer has dyslexia and dyscalculia, and she is black. Jennifer is also extremely hard-working. She never complained to her teachers about poor grades or working on holidays and weekends to bridge the gap in her learning. Her family has spent tens of thousands of dollars on outside support over the years. Between Jennifer’s third grade and sixth grade years, school administrators advised her family to send her to a school with more support on three different occasions. However, each year the school offered Jennifer a contract for the following school year. The school took the tuition money while Jennifer struggled. During Jennifer’s sixth grade year, the school finally withheld a contract and made modifications to her math class. The school only made the modifications because they knew Jennifer would not return the following year, and it was clear that Jennifer was in great distress.
The ableist, elitist organization of the school harmed Jennifer’s well-being. None of the classrooms even have the supports traditionally associated with public school special education. There were no co-taught classes. There was not even an opportunity for Jennifer to meet with a learning specialist during the school day. Teachers did not adopt a UDL approach, nor were they allowed to modify lessons or assignments to meet Jennifer where she was functioning. Jennifer felt marginalized by frequently feeling lost in the classroom and by the excessive amount of outside tutoring she had to complete, which was exhausting for her. Jennifer’s grades never reflected her hard work, which must have felt terrible.
As the learning specialist, I wrote Jennifer’s learning plan, and I spoke frequently with her parents. During her sixth grade year, Jennifer’s academic progress reached such a level of concern that my supervisor took over communication with her family. In addition, the DEI team supervised communication with the family to ensure that Jennifer’s race did not become a factor in counseling her out of the school. The school’s DEI team has focused extensively on racial and gender equity to the exclusion of disability justice.
Still, Jennifer’s math teacher came to me regularly to express concerns. Jennifer began looking sad in class. She stopped turning in assignments. She missed several days of school. Her math teacher did not know how to support her, much less assign her a grade. The math teacher became very upset at the administrators for standing by while a child struggled. I felt powerless, and I felt that it was impossible for me to be an advocate in this situation. I only shared my discontent with Jennifer’s teacher, and I expressed my doubt about the school’s commitment to progressive values like equity and inclusion. After all, Jennifer could not assimilate, so the school made her leave. Even worse, because Jennifer is black, the school hesitated on making her leave because they feared the optics of losing black representation at the school, which is primarily white.
I did not dare share my views with my supervisor because I knew that her views differed greatly from mine. My supervisor believed that learning specialists at the school should help families in exiting children from the school, including helping them find placement at a school with adequate resources and support. I, on the other hand, did not
Anonymous
May 10, 2023
Growing up in a family of academics where both of my parents were professors and then eventually University administrators, I know firsthand the anxiety and depression and stress associated with wanting to be successful and meeting parents expectations. Being the only child in my family with a learning disability meant that I had to work twice as hard to meet my parents expectations. When my high school guidance counselor questioned why I was so anxious instead of framing their concern in a way that would be supportive, she accused my parents of creating an environment that fostered anxiety and stress. The problem with this was that instead of realizing that I might have needed some additional support and accommodations in the classroom, she focused on symptoms of my disability instead of accommodating what I really needed. This is often the case with twice-exceptional students, because they appear to be successful. They get good grades, so why would they need more? In my case, my parents realized that I needed support and had me privately assessed and then got me support outside of that, which basically changed my own perspective on my learning.
When I did my undergraduate degree, I came in with the 504 plan and was able to get accommodations, and I also went to a small college, which made it easier for me to get those supports. Despite that and despite the positive learning environment that I was in, I still managed to get a professor or two who refused to give me accommodations simply because their belief was that I could either sink or swim in their class and they were not going to give me accommodations. This experience is a classic example of ableism. The professor who told me that I would either sink or swim believed that I did not need additional support and that he could not help me and therefore I was on my own.
While pursuing my master’s degree in Special Education, I experienced a really baffling situation for someone who was in a program specifically focused on special education. I had the director of the program as a professor, and she refused to give me an accommodation that I had on my 504 to test in an alternative setting for my midterm. The result of this refusal was that I had a full-on panic attack during the midterm, and I was not comfortable requesting that accommodation again because it was going to draw attention to myself or to my anxiety attack during the exam. When I went to Disability Services after this experience to get support, the professor’s response was that I hadn’t said anything and that I had gotten an A on the test, so why does it matter? It matters because accommodations are meant to level the playing field, and when they are not given to somebody because the professor doesn’t feel like it or because they don’t think that a student needs accommodations or when they say something like “you’re an adult now you shouldn’t need accommodations”, it makes it more challenging to want to disclose or even request accommodations in that environment.
Even after I finished my master’s program, I completed two additional graduate certificate programs to advance in my career. In each of those programs, I again had to fight for accommodations or get clarification or explain to somebody why I needed something done in a certain way despite the fact that I had advocated for myself all semester and made sure that the professor knew what I needed. These ableist tendencies, even if they’re unintentional, can make it very stressful to be a student no matter what environment they are in.
I think the core problem underlying most of those bad experiences is that we as a society do not have a widespread or accurate understanding of what it actually means to have a disability or what expectations are reasonable for those with disabilities. Educators often tend to view requests for disability accommodations in the same way as they would an irresponsible student asking for an extension: it can appear as an excuse to not do the same work as other students, even though in reality it is a formally diagnosed problem that truly needs the accommodations in order for the student to succeed. But without specialized training, it can be hard for educators to tell the difference.
This problem is exacerbated by those few people with disabilities that attempt to use their disability as an excuse for not actually doing their work. As an example, my sister had a colleague at a law school who tried to use his disability to not do his job. He would constantly make excuses for why he couldn’t meet deadlines or couldn’t do a task assigned to him because “I have X disability”. This was not a request for accommodations; it was a simple refusal to do his job. It is absolutely reasonable to request accommodations, but it is not reasonable to still not do your job with those supports in place. And when educators and employers encounter this kind of person, it only reinforces their incorrect bias that people citing disabilities are just slackers trying to get out of doing work.
Ultimately, though, whatever the causes, the fact that I have had to fight for accommodations at every level of my education is just flat out disturbing. It should not be this hard to be granted the accommodations and supports that I need to be able to access the curriculum the same way that all my peers do. Yet, it is always an uphill battle.
Anonymous
March 16, 2023
I was diagnosed with ADHD in first grade. It was the reason I was having issues turning in assignments and focusing but I didn’t realize it. During elementary it was very hard for me to learn because I couldn’t focus. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my mother had to go to a 504 meeting to make it easier for me to learn. In fifth grade I had really bad issues with procrastination, It made it hard for me to complete assignments on time and my teacher talked about that with me. At that moment when she talked to me, I thought about how annoying it was to be a kid with ADHD because it was harder for me to turn assignments in on time. I had to take medicine to help me with it, and I personally felt different from everyone else and I couldn’t make friends because they all thought I was awkward and way too energetic. My medicine helped me a bit but I had to take more mg of it because it hadn’t helped much. Then I hit sixth grade and it all changed. I was starting to get insecure about it and the fact that nobody wanted to be friends with me because to them I was annoying. It is still hard for me to make friends because I have ADHD. People think it only affects school but it affects my social life, home life, and just my overall life. I had my 504 meeting late in the year and it was very frustrating for me because I had no accommodations because my paperwork was signed late. To me, ADHD is a superpower because it is a blessing and a curse. For instance, it allows me to hyperfocus and think differently than others, but it also makes my life harder with people thinking I’m just overall lazy or too energetic. I wish people would understand the struggles of ADHD because it would be nice to have people who understand that it’s not just something that makes it harder to learn.
Anonymous
Oct 02, 2022
Special Education and Educational Therapy promote ableism because both fields essentially function with the goal of supporting students in order to help them achieve at the same level as their neurotypical peers or fit in better with their peers. Essentially, both fields center the needs of people in power because the work we are expected to do is designed to teach learners how to conform to the standards of traditional schooling, which is determined and policed by people in power.
Typically, students are recommended for testing if they “stand out”, are struggling, or not functioning at the same level as other students in the classroom. Usually, a family member or teacher brings the student’s behavior or performance to the attention of others on the basis of how well they are functioning within the status quo. For example, if a student seems to be more energetic than others and needs to move around in order to focus when most of the other students in a classroom sit still at their desks, the energetic student will most likely be recommended for evaluation and testing. The student’s performance and behavior in class and at home is evaluated by teachers, family members, and others who are able to observe this student in an educational setting, and based on those observations, the student is tested and diagnosed. The process for diagnosis is ableist because standards for observation and testing are based on what neurotypical students are able to do and what the student in question is not able to do.
Special education and educational therapy practices in schools and classrooms are also ableist because the way in which both fields are expected to support students in a school or classroom setting is all based on helping students function at the level of their neurotypical peers. School and classroom rules/expectations are typically set based on how the adults in these settings want students to conduct themselves, and not usually based on what each individual student can actually do. Granted, some expectations are set based on safety, however, many rules and expectations reinforce bureaucratic policies, mindsets, and whit supremacist culture. For example, most schools are required to conduct standardized testing, sometimes multiple times a year. This is a required practice statewide and nationwide and results are used to determine levels at which our young people are “achieving”. We all know that standardized testing is a one-size-fits-all model, there is no space for neurodiverse minds to share what they know because standards are based on what folks in power think neurotypical students should be able to do. Additionally, most schools receive funding or recognition based on their test scores, which holds so many other implications, such as teaching to tests, lack of resources, and school closures. The day-to-day operations of school and classrooms inherently benefit very few students and leave many behind, including neurodiverse students.
Additionally, there are a disproportionate amount of BIPOC students and students from low-income households represented in special education or not being evaluated and supported early enough and so we have to question whether the system we operate in makes space for these students’ abilities, values, and cultures. Schools are already violent spaces for BIPOC students, which means there really is no space for BIPOC neurodiverse learners because the education system in the United States was not built to serve them.
My story of systemic injustice is centered around the story of a young Black male student I worked with who struggled behaviorally, academically, economically, and in his family life. The student was in 6th grade, had already been expelled from three different schools, and was in danger of being expelled from the school where I worked. This student was hungry for learning but was struggling to pay attention in his classes, follow classroom expectations, follow school expectations (he was always fighting), and with housing. He had been struggling with these difficulties all of his life, and no other school had taken the time to meet with his family, get him assessed, and get him the (limited) care the school district offered. He was basically falling through the cracks, so I worked with several support staff to try to get him some help Home life was difficult and the student support team struggled to connect with his guardians. We also learned from his grandmother that previous assessments revealed the student may have been showing signs of bipolar disorder, and so it was all hands on deck to try to get this student the support needed and protect him from being expelled from yet another school. What this student needed was assessment and support in a school that could help him understand not only how he learns, but also the societal factors he experienced every day of his life. This child did not have the privilege of just working through his experience as a learner because he also needed support surviving systemic and institutional traumas. Our efforts to support this student were not excellent, but we tried our best to support him in an educational system that does not have structures in place to support students like him, of which there are a lot! As I transitioned from interim Assistant Principal back into the classroom, I enlisted the help of the Okay Program, which was run by Black male police officers to support young Black men in schools and bridge the relationship between Black males and the police. Our site representative took the reins on visiting the student’s family, working with his mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and get the process started on having the student assessed for bipolar and learning differences so that he could qualify for a school with on-site counseling and housing programs. Ultimately, I still don’t know if the route we took was the best for the student because we were still operating within a broken system, however. Something needed to change for him and I do believe he experienced some positive change because of our efforts.
Anonymous
Aug 25, 2022
Having known accommodations creates separation between students in the classroom, however not accommodating more severe disabilities or difficulties can cause worse problems down the line for the student in question. Additionally, singling out, not granting IEPs, incorrect or misinformation regarding diagnoses (which creates issues with the understanding of the presentation of disorders), having a lack of information of things like CAPD, and treatment being mistargeted to assume that someone is more able or less able than they actually are can all do the same, further enforcing the power hierarchy of special education.
Within schools, some special education teachers can harbor biases and focus on students who have more difficulties than the others rather than focusing on the strengths of students who are succeeding despite the challenges they have overcome. They may also give less attention to those they perceive to be more abled.
Many special education teachers can be ableist. The name “special” education sounds patronizing, and some special education teachers have a savior complex or a sort of feeling of superiority for helping this minority group. The needs of an autistic person are not “special” needs. They are only “special” because our world is not made for them and is not inclusive. Their needs have not been considered seriously in the past (and present, seemingly), and are thus deemed as exceptional, so they are “special.” The term “special” needs makes it sound as though we are doing them a favor by accommodating them or that they are a burden on society when in reality they are seeking to be able to have as much success as a neurotypical person. And, as such, most of the people who make the laws and the decisions are neurotypical and therefore do not understand the struggles that disabled people have to even reach the same playing field as them. The way we “include” and “help” the disabled is in a way that makes them assimilate to a system or situation created for neurotypicals. The term “disabled” is also ableist in and of itself; it says, “If you’re not like me, you are disabled and I am abled,” with the subtext being “I’m better than you, I am the standard.” In reality, technically no one is disabled; people are just differently abled in a society not conducive to them, therefore disabling them and subsequently labelling them as “disabled” which continues to disable them further.
Finally, laws and policies that deal with disability rights are often ableist in their language. IDEA, for example, uses very vague language and states that those with disabilities are guaranteed “access” to the services they require. It does not, however, guarantee that they will receive those services.
A previous client I worked with experienced ambivalent ableism within his segregated Special Education school. He was in a highly limited environment with teachers and social workers that did not value or respect him and his disability. His mother once expressed frustration and concern about one particular teacher who would yell at her son if he wandered off and would swear at him and grab him roughly. The system was set up to protect the teachers, as they were “special ed teachers” and “knew what they were doing,” as well as other workers as opposed to the children. When his parents brought this to the school, the administration and other faculty vouched for this woman, and the school authorities and teachers did not make any changes regarding her involvement with the child or her poor behavior. This was apparently one of many times the parents had brought concerns to the school and received no response or action, only affirmations of the teacher who was continuously abusive towards him just because she had the power to be. The system invalidated this family’s concerns and ability to do anything about it. Because I was employed by a private ABA company, I had no involvement with the school. I did, however, work with the child’s mother, hearing and validating her feelings and experiences. I continuously assured her that I and my team would help her. I advocated for her and her son by bringing the concerns to the BCBA and case supervisor so they could more closely work with the parents and formulate a plan and a way to communicate with the school without fear of retaliation or any consequences or further danger to her son. It was difficult for me to act as an advocate solely because of my limited ability as a BT to be involved, but I was able to direct the student’s parents to the right person who could remedy the situation and improve their son’s education experience and safety.
Anonymous
May 10, 2023
Growing up in a family of academics where both of my parents were professors and then eventually University administrators, I know firsthand the anxiety and depression and stress associated with wanting to be successful and meeting parents expectations. Being the only child in my family with a learning disability meant that I had to work twice as hard to meet my parents expectations. When my high school guidance counselor questioned why I was so anxious instead of framing their concern in a way that would be supportive, she accused my parents of creating an environment that fostered anxiety and stress. The problem with this was that instead of realizing that I might have needed some additional support and accommodations in the classroom, she focused on symptoms of my disability instead of accommodating what I really needed. This is often the case with twice-exceptional students, because they appear to be successful. They get good grades, so why would they need more? In my case, my parents realized that I needed support and had me privately assessed and then got me support outside of that, which basically changed my own perspective on my learning.
When I did my undergraduate degree, I came in with the 504 plan and was able to get accommodations, and I also went to a small college, which made it easier for me to get those supports. Despite that and despite the positive learning environment that I was in, I still managed to get a professor or two who refused to give me accommodations simply because their belief was that I could either sink or swim in their class and they were not going to give me accommodations. This experience is a classic example of ableism. The professor who told me that I would either sink or swim believed that I did not need additional support and that he could not help me and therefore I was on my own.
While pursuing my master’s degree in Special Education, I experienced a really baffling situation for someone who was in a program specifically focused on special education. I had the director of the program as a professor, and she refused to give me an accommodation that I had on my 504 to test in an alternative setting for my midterm. The result of this refusal was that I had a full-on panic attack during the midterm, and I was not comfortable requesting that accommodation again because it was going to draw attention to myself or to my anxiety attack during the exam. When I went to Disability Services after this experience to get support, the professor’s response was that I hadn’t said anything and that I had gotten an A on the test, so why does it matter? It matters because accommodations are meant to level the playing field, and when they are not given to somebody because the professor doesn’t feel like it or because they don’t think that a student needs accommodations or when they say something like “you’re an adult now you shouldn’t need accommodations”, it makes it more challenging to want to disclose or even request accommodations in that environment.
Even after I finished my master’s program, I completed two additional graduate certificate programs to advance in my career. In each of those programs, I again had to fight for accommodations or get clarification or explain to somebody why I needed something done in a certain way despite the fact that I had advocated for myself all semester and made sure that the professor knew what I needed. These ableist tendencies, even if they’re unintentional, can make it very stressful to be a student no matter what environment they are in.
I think the core problem underlying most of those bad experiences is that we as a society do not have a widespread or accurate understanding of what it actually means to have a disability or what expectations are reasonable for those with disabilities. Educators often tend to view requests for disability accommodations in the same way as they would an irresponsible student asking for an extension: it can appear as an excuse to not do the same work as other students, even though in reality it is a formally diagnosed problem that truly needs the accommodations in order for the student to succeed. But without specialized training, it can be hard for educators to tell the difference.
This problem is exacerbated by those few people with disabilities that attempt to use their disability as an excuse for not actually doing their work. As an example, my sister had a colleague at a law school who tried to use his disability to not do his job. He would constantly make excuses for why he couldn’t meet deadlines or couldn’t do a task assigned to him because “I have X disability”. This was not a request for accommodations; it was a simple refusal to do his job. It is absolutely reasonable to request accommodations, but it is not reasonable to still not do your job with those supports in place. And when educators and employers encounter this kind of person, it only reinforces their incorrect bias that people citing disabilities are just slackers trying to get out of doing work.
Ultimately, though, whatever the causes, the fact that I have had to fight for accommodations at every level of my education is just flat out disturbing. It should not be this hard to be granted the accommodations and supports that I need to be able to access the curriculum the same way that all my peers do. Yet, it is always an uphill battle.
Anonymous
March 16, 2023
I was diagnosed with ADHD in first grade. It was the reason I was having issues turning in assignments and focusing but I didn’t realize it. During elementary it was very hard for me to learn because I couldn’t focus. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my mother had to go to a 504 meeting to make it easier for me to learn. In fifth grade I had really bad issues with procrastination, It made it hard for me to complete assignments on time and my teacher talked about that with me. At that moment when she talked to me, I thought about how annoying it was to be a kid with ADHD because it was harder for me to turn assignments in on time. I had to take medicine to help me with it, and I personally felt different from everyone else and I couldn’t make friends because they all thought I was awkward and way too energetic. My medicine helped me a bit but I had to take more mg of it because it hadn’t helped much. Then I hit sixth grade and it all changed. I was starting to get insecure about it and the fact that nobody wanted to be friends with me because to them I was annoying. It is still hard for me to make friends because I have ADHD. People think it only affects school but it affects my social life, home life, and just my overall life. I had my 504 meeting late in the year and it was very frustrating for me because I had no accommodations because my paperwork was signed late. To me, ADHD is a superpower because it is a blessing and a curse. For instance, it allows me to hyperfocus and think differently than others, but it also makes my life harder with people thinking I’m just overall lazy or too energetic. I wish people would understand the struggles of ADHD because it would be nice to have people who understand that it’s not just something that makes it harder to learn.
Anonymous
Oct 02, 2022
Special Education and Educational Therapy promote ableism because both fields essentially function with the goal of supporting students in order to help them achieve at the same level as their neurotypical peers or fit in better with their peers. Essentially, both fields center the needs of people in power because the work we are expected to do is designed to teach learners how to conform to the standards of traditional schooling, which is determined and policed by people in power.
Typically, students are recommended for testing if they “stand out”, are struggling, or not functioning at the same level as other students in the classroom. Usually, a family member or teacher brings the student’s behavior or performance to the attention of others on the basis of how well they are functioning within the status quo. For example, if a student seems to be more energetic than others and needs to move around in order to focus when most of the other students in a classroom sit still at their desks, the energetic student will most likely be recommended for evaluation and testing. The student’s performance and behavior in class and at home is evaluated by teachers, family members, and others who are able to observe this student in an educational setting, and based on those observations, the student is tested and diagnosed. The process for diagnosis is ableist because standards for observation and testing are based on what neurotypical students are able to do and what the student in question is not able to do.
Special education and educational therapy practices in schools and classrooms are also ableist because the way in which both fields are expected to support students in a school or classroom setting is all based on helping students function at the level of their neurotypical peers. School and classroom rules/expectations are typically set based on how the adults in these settings want students to conduct themselves, and not usually based on what each individual student can actually do. Granted, some expectations are set based on safety, however, many rules and expectations reinforce bureaucratic policies, mindsets, and whit supremacist culture. For example, most schools are required to conduct standardized testing, sometimes multiple times a year. This is a required practice statewide and nationwide and results are used to determine levels at which our young people are “achieving”. We all know that standardized testing is a one-size-fits-all model, there is no space for neurodiverse minds to share what they know because standards are based on what folks in power think neurotypical students should be able to do. Additionally, most schools receive funding or recognition based on their test scores, which holds so many other implications, such as teaching to tests, lack of resources, and school closures. The day-to-day operations of school and classrooms inherently benefit very few students and leave many behind, including neurodiverse students.
Additionally, there are a disproportionate amount of BIPOC students and students from low-income households represented in special education or not being evaluated and supported early enough and so we have to question whether the system we operate in makes space for these students’ abilities, values, and cultures. Schools are already violent spaces for BIPOC students, which means there really is no space for BIPOC neurodiverse learners because the education system in the United States was not built to serve them.
My story of systemic injustice is centered around the story of a young Black male student I worked with who struggled behaviorally, academically, economically, and in his family life. The student was in 6th grade, had already been expelled from three different schools, and was in danger of being expelled from the school where I worked. This student was hungry for learning but was struggling to pay attention in his classes, follow classroom expectations, follow school expectations (he was always fighting), and with housing. He had been struggling with these difficulties all of his life, and no other school had taken the time to meet with his family, get him assessed, and get him the (limited) care the school district offered. He was basically falling through the cracks, so I worked with several support staff to try to get him some help Home life was difficult and the student support team struggled to connect with his guardians. We also learned from his grandmother that previous assessments revealed the student may have been showing signs of bipolar disorder, and so it was all hands on deck to try to get this student the support needed and protect him from being expelled from yet another school. What this student needed was assessment and support in a school that could help him understand not only how he learns, but also the societal factors he experienced every day of his life. This child did not have the privilege of just working through his experience as a learner because he also needed support surviving systemic and institutional traumas. Our efforts to support this student were not excellent, but we tried our best to support him in an educational system that does not have structures in place to support students like him, of which there are a lot! As I transitioned from interim Assistant Principal back into the classroom, I enlisted the help of the Okay Program, which was run by Black male police officers to support young Black men in schools and bridge the relationship between Black males and the police. Our site representative took the reins on visiting the student’s family, working with his mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and get the process started on having the student assessed for bipolar and learning differences so that he could qualify for a school with on-site counseling and housing programs. Ultimately, I still don’t know if the route we took was the best for the student because we were still operating within a broken system, however. Something needed to change for him and I do believe he experienced some positive change because of our efforts.
Anonymous
Aug 25, 2022
Having known accommodations creates separation between students in the classroom, however not accommodating more severe disabilities or difficulties can cause worse problems down the line for the student in question. Additionally, singling out, not granting IEPs, incorrect or misinformation regarding diagnoses (which creates issues with the understanding of the presentation of disorders), having a lack of information of things like CAPD, and treatment being mistargeted to assume that someone is more able or less able than they actually are can all do the same, further enforcing the power hierarchy of special education.
Within schools, some special education teachers can harbor biases and focus on students who have more difficulties than the others rather than focusing on the strengths of students who are succeeding despite the challenges they have overcome. They may also give less attention to those they perceive to be more abled.
Many special education teachers can be ableist. The name “special” education sounds patronizing, and some special education teachers have a savior complex or a sort of feeling of superiority for helping this minority group. The needs of an autistic person are not “special” needs. They are only “special” because our world is not made for them and is not inclusive. Their needs have not been considered seriously in the past (and present, seemingly), and are thus deemed as exceptional, so they are “special.” The term “special” needs makes it sound as though we are doing them a favor by accommodating them or that they are a burden on society when in reality they are seeking to be able to have as much success as a neurotypical person. And, as such, most of the people who make the laws and the decisions are neurotypical and therefore do not understand the struggles that disabled people have to even reach the same playing field as them. The way we “include” and “help” the disabled is in a way that makes them assimilate to a system or situation created for neurotypicals. The term “disabled” is also ableist in and of itself; it says, “If you’re not like me, you are disabled and I am abled,” with the subtext being “I’m better than you, I am the standard.” In reality, technically no one is disabled; people are just differently abled in a society not conducive to them, therefore disabling them and subsequently labelling them as “disabled” which continues to disable them further.
Finally, laws and policies that deal with disability rights are often ableist in their language. IDEA, for example, uses very vague language and states that those with disabilities are guaranteed “access” to the services they require. It does not, however, guarantee that they will receive those services.
A previous client I worked with experienced ambivalent ableism within his segregated Special Education school. He was in a highly limited environment with teachers and social workers that did not value or respect him and his disability. His mother once expressed frustration and concern about one particular teacher who would yell at her son if he wandered off and would swear at him and grab him roughly. The system was set up to protect the teachers, as they were “special ed teachers” and “knew what they were doing,” as well as other workers as opposed to the children. When his parents brought this to the school, the administration and other faculty vouched for this woman, and the school authorities and teachers did not make any changes regarding her involvement with the child or her poor behavior. This was apparently one of many times the parents had brought concerns to the school and received no response or action, only affirmations of the teacher who was continuously abusive towards him just because she had the power to be. The system invalidated this family’s concerns and ability to do anything about it. Because I was employed by a private ABA company, I had no involvement with the school. I did, however, work with the child’s mother, hearing and validating her feelings and experiences. I continuously assured her that I and my team would help her. I advocated for her and her son by bringing the concerns to the BCBA and case supervisor so they could more closely work with the parents and formulate a plan and a way to communicate with the school without fear of retaliation or any consequences or further danger to her son. It was difficult for me to act as an advocate solely because of my limited ability as a BT to be involved, but I was able to direct the student’s parents to the right person who could remedy the situation and improve their son’s education experience and safety.
Anonymous
May 10, 2023
Growing up in a family of academics where both of my parents were professors and then eventually University administrators, I know firsthand the anxiety and depression and stress associated with wanting to be successful and meeting parents expectations. Being the only child in my family with a learning disability meant that I had to work twice as hard to meet my parents expectations. When my high school guidance counselor questioned why I was so anxious instead of framing their concern in a way that would be supportive, she accused my parents of creating an environment that fostered anxiety and stress. The problem with this was that instead of realizing that I might have needed some additional support and accommodations in the classroom, she focused on symptoms of my disability instead of accommodating what I really needed. This is often the case with twice-exceptional students, because they appear to be successful. They get good grades, so why would they need more? In my case, my parents realized that I needed support and had me privately assessed and then got me support outside of that, which basically changed my own perspective on my learning.
When I did my undergraduate degree, I came in with the 504 plan and was able to get accommodations, and I also went to a small college, which made it easier for me to get those supports. Despite that and despite the positive learning environment that I was in, I still managed to get a professor or two who refused to give me accommodations simply because their belief was that I could either sink or swim in their class and they were not going to give me accommodations. This experience is a classic example of ableism. The professor who told me that I would either sink or swim believed that I did not need additional support and that he could not help me and therefore I was on my own.
While pursuing my master’s degree in Special Education, I experienced a really baffling situation for someone who was in a program specifically focused on special education. I had the director of the program as a professor, and she refused to give me an accommodation that I had on my 504 to test in an alternative setting for my midterm. The result of this refusal was that I had a full-on panic attack during the midterm, and I was not comfortable requesting that accommodation again because it was going to draw attention to myself or to my anxiety attack during the exam. When I went to Disability Services after this experience to get support, the professor’s response was that I hadn’t said anything and that I had gotten an A on the test, so why does it matter? It matters because accommodations are meant to level the playing field, and when they are not given to somebody because the professor doesn’t feel like it or because they don’t think that a student needs accommodations or when they say something like “you’re an adult now you shouldn’t need accommodations”, it makes it more challenging to want to disclose or even request accommodations in that environment.
Even after I finished my master’s program, I completed two additional graduate certificate programs to advance in my career. In each of those programs, I again had to fight for accommodations or get clarification or explain to somebody why I needed something done in a certain way despite the fact that I had advocated for myself all semester and made sure that the professor knew what I needed. These ableist tendencies, even if they’re unintentional, can make it very stressful to be a student no matter what environment they are in.
I think the core problem underlying most of those bad experiences is that we as a society do not have a widespread or accurate understanding of what it actually means to have a disability or what expectations are reasonable for those with disabilities. Educators often tend to view requests for disability accommodations in the same way as they would an irresponsible student asking for an extension: it can appear as an excuse to not do the same work as other students, even though in reality it is a formally diagnosed problem that truly needs the accommodations in order for the student to succeed. But without specialized training, it can be hard for educators to tell the difference.
This problem is exacerbated by those few people with disabilities that attempt to use their disability as an excuse for not actually doing their work. As an example, my sister had a colleague at a law school who tried to use his disability to not do his job. He would constantly make excuses for why he couldn’t meet deadlines or couldn’t do a task assigned to him because “I have X disability”. This was not a request for accommodations; it was a simple refusal to do his job. It is absolutely reasonable to request accommodations, but it is not reasonable to still not do your job with those supports in place. And when educators and employers encounter this kind of person, it only reinforces their incorrect bias that people citing disabilities are just slackers trying to get out of doing work.
Ultimately, though, whatever the causes, the fact that I have had to fight for accommodations at every level of my education is just flat out disturbing. It should not be this hard to be granted the accommodations and supports that I need to be able to access the curriculum the same way that all my peers do. Yet, it is always an uphill battle.
Anonymous
March 16, 2023
I was diagnosed with ADHD in first grade. It was the reason I was having issues turning in assignments and focusing but I didn’t realize it. During elementary it was very hard for me to learn because I couldn’t focus. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my mother had to go to a 504 meeting to make it easier for me to learn. In fifth grade I had really bad issues with procrastination, It made it hard for me to complete assignments on time and my teacher talked about that with me. At that moment when she talked to me, I thought about how annoying it was to be a kid with ADHD because it was harder for me to turn assignments in on time. I had to take medicine to help me with it, and I personally felt different from everyone else and I couldn’t make friends because they all thought I was awkward and way too energetic. My medicine helped me a bit but I had to take more mg of it because it hadn’t helped much. Then I hit sixth grade and it all changed. I was starting to get insecure about it and the fact that nobody wanted to be friends with me because to them I was annoying. It is still hard for me to make friends because I have ADHD. People think it only affects school but it affects my social life, home life, and just my overall life. I had my 504 meeting late in the year and it was very frustrating for me because I had no accommodations because my paperwork was signed late. To me, ADHD is a superpower because it is a blessing and a curse. For instance, it allows me to hyperfocus and think differently than others, but it also makes my life harder with people thinking I’m just overall lazy or too energetic. I wish people would understand the struggles of ADHD because it would be nice to have people who understand that it’s not just something that makes it harder to learn.
Anonymous
Oct 02, 2022
Special Education and Educational Therapy promote ableism because both fields essentially function with the goal of supporting students in order to help them achieve at the same level as their neurotypical peers or fit in better with their peers. Essentially, both fields center the needs of people in power because the work we are expected to do is designed to teach learners how to conform to the standards of traditional schooling, which is determined and policed by people in power.
Typically, students are recommended for testing if they “stand out”, are struggling, or not functioning at the same level as other students in the classroom. Usually, a family member or teacher brings the student’s behavior or performance to the attention of others on the basis of how well they are functioning within the status quo. For example, if a student seems to be more energetic than others and needs to move around in order to focus when most of the other students in a classroom sit still at their desks, the energetic student will most likely be recommended for evaluation and testing. The student’s performance and behavior in class and at home is evaluated by teachers, family members, and others who are able to observe this student in an educational setting, and based on those observations, the student is tested and diagnosed. The process for diagnosis is ableist because standards for observation and testing are based on what neurotypical students are able to do and what the student in question is not able to do.
Special education and educational therapy practices in schools and classrooms are also ableist because the way in which both fields are expected to support students in a school or classroom setting is all based on helping students function at the level of their neurotypical peers. School and classroom rules/expectations are typically set based on how the adults in these settings want students to conduct themselves, and not usually based on what each individual student can actually do. Granted, some expectations are set based on safety, however, many rules and expectations reinforce bureaucratic policies, mindsets, and whit supremacist culture. For example, most schools are required to conduct standardized testing, sometimes multiple times a year. This is a required practice statewide and nationwide and results are used to determine levels at which our young people are “achieving”. We all know that standardized testing is a one-size-fits-all model, there is no space for neurodiverse minds to share what they know because standards are based on what folks in power think neurotypical students should be able to do. Additionally, most schools receive funding or recognition based on their test scores, which holds so many other implications, such as teaching to tests, lack of resources, and school closures. The day-to-day operations of school and classrooms inherently benefit very few students and leave many behind, including neurodiverse students.
Additionally, there are a disproportionate amount of BIPOC students and students from low-income households represented in special education or not being evaluated and supported early enough and so we have to question whether the system we operate in makes space for these students’ abilities, values, and cultures. Schools are already violent spaces for BIPOC students, which means there really is no space for BIPOC neurodiverse learners because the education system in the United States was not built to serve them.
My story of systemic injustice is centered around the story of a young Black male student I worked with who struggled behaviorally, academically, economically, and in his family life. The student was in 6th grade, had already been expelled from three different schools, and was in danger of being expelled from the school where I worked. This student was hungry for learning but was struggling to pay attention in his classes, follow classroom expectations, follow school expectations (he was always fighting), and with housing. He had been struggling with these difficulties all of his life, and no other school had taken the time to meet with his family, get him assessed, and get him the (limited) care the school district offered. He was basically falling through the cracks, so I worked with several support staff to try to get him some help Home life was difficult and the student support team struggled to connect with his guardians. We also learned from his grandmother that previous assessments revealed the student may have been showing signs of bipolar disorder, and so it was all hands on deck to try to get this student the support needed and protect him from being expelled from yet another school. What this student needed was assessment and support in a school that could help him understand not only how he learns, but also the societal factors he experienced every day of his life. This child did not have the privilege of just working through his experience as a learner because he also needed support surviving systemic and institutional traumas. Our efforts to support this student were not excellent, but we tried our best to support him in an educational system that does not have structures in place to support students like him, of which there are a lot! As I transitioned from interim Assistant Principal back into the classroom, I enlisted the help of the Okay Program, which was run by Black male police officers to support young Black men in schools and bridge the relationship between Black males and the police. Our site representative took the reins on visiting the student’s family, working with his mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and get the process started on having the student assessed for bipolar and learning differences so that he could qualify for a school with on-site counseling and housing programs. Ultimately, I still don’t know if the route we took was the best for the student because we were still operating within a broken system, however. Something needed to change for him and I do believe he experienced some positive change because of our efforts.
Anonymous
Aug 25, 2022
Having known accommodations creates separation between students in the classroom, however not accommodating more severe disabilities or difficulties can cause worse problems down the line for the student in question. Additionally, singling out, not granting IEPs, incorrect or misinformation regarding diagnoses (which creates issues with the understanding of the presentation of disorders), having a lack of information of things like CAPD, and treatment being mistargeted to assume that someone is more able or less able than they actually are can all do the same, further enforcing the power hierarchy of special education.
Within schools, some special education teachers can harbor biases and focus on students who have more difficulties than the others rather than focusing on the strengths of students who are succeeding despite the challenges they have overcome. They may also give less attention to those they perceive to be more abled.
Many special education teachers can be ableist. The name “special” education sounds patronizing, and some special education teachers have a savior complex or a sort of feeling of superiority for helping this minority group. The needs of an autistic person are not “special” needs. They are only “special” because our world is not made for them and is not inclusive. Their needs have not been considered seriously in the past (and present, seemingly), and are thus deemed as exceptional, so they are “special.” The term “special” needs makes it sound as though we are doing them a favor by accommodating them or that they are a burden on society when in reality they are seeking to be able to have as much success as a neurotypical person. And, as such, most of the people who make the laws and the decisions are neurotypical and therefore do not understand the struggles that disabled people have to even reach the same playing field as them. The way we “include” and “help” the disabled is in a way that makes them assimilate to a system or situation created for neurotypicals. The term “disabled” is also ableist in and of itself; it says, “If you’re not like me, you are disabled and I am abled,” with the subtext being “I’m better than you, I am the standard.” In reality, technically no one is disabled; people are just differently abled in a society not conducive to them, therefore disabling them and subsequently labelling them as “disabled” which continues to disable them further.
Finally, laws and policies that deal with disability rights are often ableist in their language. IDEA, for example, uses very vague language and states that those with disabilities are guaranteed “access” to the services they require. It does not, however, guarantee that they will receive those services.
A previous client I worked with experienced ambivalent ableism within his segregated Special Education school. He was in a highly limited environment with teachers and social workers that did not value or respect him and his disability. His mother once expressed frustration and concern about one particular teacher who would yell at her son if he wandered off and would swear at him and grab him roughly. The system was set up to protect the teachers, as they were “special ed teachers” and “knew what they were doing,” as well as other workers as opposed to the children. When his parents brought this to the school, the administration and other faculty vouched for this woman, and the school authorities and teachers did not make any changes regarding her involvement with the child or her poor behavior. This was apparently one of many times the parents had brought concerns to the school and received no response or action, only affirmations of the teacher who was continuously abusive towards him just because she had the power to be. The system invalidated this family’s concerns and ability to do anything about it. Because I was employed by a private ABA company, I had no involvement with the school. I did, however, work with the child’s mother, hearing and validating her feelings and experiences. I continuously assured her that I and my team would help her. I advocated for her and her son by bringing the concerns to the BCBA and case supervisor so they could more closely work with the parents and formulate a plan and a way to communicate with the school without fear of retaliation or any consequences or further danger to her son. It was difficult for me to act as an advocate solely because of my limited ability as a BT to be involved, but I was able to direct the student’s parents to the right person who could remedy the situation and improve their son’s education experience and safety.
Anonymous
May 10, 2023
Growing up in a family of academics where both of my parents were professors and then eventually University administrators, I know firsthand the anxiety and depression and stress associated with wanting to be successful and meeting parents expectations. Being the only child in my family with a learning disability meant that I had to work twice as hard to meet my parents expectations. When my high school guidance counselor questioned why I was so anxious instead of framing their concern in a way that would be supportive, she accused my parents of creating an environment that fostered anxiety and stress. The problem with this was that instead of realizing that I might have needed some additional support and accommodations in the classroom, she focused on symptoms of my disability instead of accommodating what I really needed. This is often the case with twice-exceptional students, because they appear to be successful. They get good grades, so why would they need more? In my case, my parents realized that I needed support and had me privately assessed and then got me support outside of that, which basically changed my own perspective on my learning.
When I did my undergraduate degree, I came in with the 504 plan and was able to get accommodations, and I also went to a small college, which made it easier for me to get those supports. Despite that and despite the positive learning environment that I was in, I still managed to get a professor or two who refused to give me accommodations simply because their belief was that I could either sink or swim in their class and they were not going to give me accommodations. This experience is a classic example of ableism. The professor who told me that I would either sink or swim believed that I did not need additional support and that he could not help me and therefore I was on my own.
While pursuing my master’s degree in Special Education, I experienced a really baffling situation for someone who was in a program specifically focused on special education. I had the director of the program as a professor, and she refused to give me an accommodation that I had on my 504 to test in an alternative setting for my midterm. The result of this refusal was that I had a full-on panic attack during the midterm, and I was not comfortable requesting that accommodation again because it was going to draw attention to myself or to my anxiety attack during the exam. When I went to Disability Services after this experience to get support, the professor’s response was that I hadn’t said anything and that I had gotten an A on the test, so why does it matter? It matters because accommodations are meant to level the playing field, and when they are not given to somebody because the professor doesn’t feel like it or because they don’t think that a student needs accommodations or when they say something like “you’re an adult now you shouldn’t need accommodations”, it makes it more challenging to want to disclose or even request accommodations in that environment.
Even after I finished my master’s program, I completed two additional graduate certificate programs to advance in my career. In each of those programs, I again had to fight for accommodations or get clarification or explain to somebody why I needed something done in a certain way despite the fact that I had advocated for myself all semester and made sure that the professor knew what I needed. These ableist tendencies, even if they’re unintentional, can make it very stressful to be a student no matter what environment they are in.
I think the core problem underlying most of those bad experiences is that we as a society do not have a widespread or accurate understanding of what it actually means to have a disability or what expectations are reasonable for those with disabilities. Educators often tend to view requests for disability accommodations in the same way as they would an irresponsible student asking for an extension: it can appear as an excuse to not do the same work as other students, even though in reality it is a formally diagnosed problem that truly needs the accommodations in order for the student to succeed. But without specialized training, it can be hard for educators to tell the difference.
This problem is exacerbated by those few people with disabilities that attempt to use their disability as an excuse for not actually doing their work. As an example, my sister had a colleague at a law school who tried to use his disability to not do his job. He would constantly make excuses for why he couldn’t meet deadlines or couldn’t do a task assigned to him because “I have X disability”. This was not a request for accommodations; it was a simple refusal to do his job. It is absolutely reasonable to request accommodations, but it is not reasonable to still not do your job with those supports in place. And when educators and employers encounter this kind of person, it only reinforces their incorrect bias that people citing disabilities are just slackers trying to get out of doing work.
Ultimately, though, whatever the causes, the fact that I have had to fight for accommodations at every level of my education is just flat out disturbing. It should not be this hard to be granted the accommodations and supports that I need to be able to access the curriculum the same way that all my peers do. Yet, it is always an uphill battle.
Anonymous
March 16, 2023
I was diagnosed with ADHD in first grade. It was the reason I was having issues turning in assignments and focusing but I didn’t realize it. During elementary it was very hard for me to learn because I couldn’t focus. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my mother had to go to a 504 meeting to make it easier for me to learn. In fifth grade I had really bad issues with procrastination, It made it hard for me to complete assignments on time and my teacher talked about that with me. At that moment when she talked to me, I thought about how annoying it was to be a kid with ADHD because it was harder for me to turn assignments in on time. I had to take medicine to help me with it, and I personally felt different from everyone else and I couldn’t make friends because they all thought I was awkward and way too energetic. My medicine helped me a bit but I had to take more mg of it because it hadn’t helped much. Then I hit sixth grade and it all changed. I was starting to get insecure about it and the fact that nobody wanted to be friends with me because to them I was annoying. It is still hard for me to make friends because I have ADHD. People think it only affects school but it affects my social life, home life, and just my overall life. I had my 504 meeting late in the year and it was very frustrating for me because I had no accommodations because my paperwork was signed late. To me, ADHD is a superpower because it is a blessing and a curse. For instance, it allows me to hyperfocus and think differently than others, but it also makes my life harder with people thinking I’m just overall lazy or too energetic. I wish people would understand the struggles of ADHD because it would be nice to have people who understand that it’s not just something that makes it harder to learn.
Anonymous
Oct 02, 2022
Special Education and Educational Therapy promote ableism because both fields essentially function with the goal of supporting students in order to help them achieve at the same level as their neurotypical peers or fit in better with their peers. Essentially, both fields center the needs of people in power because the work we are expected to do is designed to teach learners how to conform to the standards of traditional schooling, which is determined and policed by people in power.
Typically, students are recommended for testing if they “stand out”, are struggling, or not functioning at the same level as other students in the classroom. Usually, a family member or teacher brings the student’s behavior or performance to the attention of others on the basis of how well they are functioning within the status quo. For example, if a student seems to be more energetic than others and needs to move around in order to focus when most of the other students in a classroom sit still at their desks, the energetic student will most likely be recommended for evaluation and testing. The student’s performance and behavior in class and at home is evaluated by teachers, family members, and others who are able to observe this student in an educational setting, and based on those observations, the student is tested and diagnosed. The process for diagnosis is ableist because standards for observation and testing are based on what neurotypical students are able to do and what the student in question is not able to do.
Special education and educational therapy practices in schools and classrooms are also ableist because the way in which both fields are expected to support students in a school or classroom setting is all based on helping students function at the level of their neurotypical peers. School and classroom rules/expectations are typically set based on how the adults in these settings want students to conduct themselves, and not usually based on what each individual student can actually do. Granted, some expectations are set based on safety, however, many rules and expectations reinforce bureaucratic policies, mindsets, and whit supremacist culture. For example, most schools are required to conduct standardized testing, sometimes multiple times a year. This is a required practice statewide and nationwide and results are used to determine levels at which our young people are “achieving”. We all know that standardized testing is a one-size-fits-all model, there is no space for neurodiverse minds to share what they know because standards are based on what folks in power think neurotypical students should be able to do. Additionally, most schools receive funding or recognition based on their test scores, which holds so many other implications, such as teaching to tests, lack of resources, and school closures. The day-to-day operations of school and classrooms inherently benefit very few students and leave many behind, including neurodiverse students.
Additionally, there are a disproportionate amount of BIPOC students and students from low-income households represented in special education or not being evaluated and supported early enough and so we have to question whether the system we operate in makes space for these students’ abilities, values, and cultures. Schools are already violent spaces for BIPOC students, which means there really is no space for BIPOC neurodiverse learners because the education system in the United States was not built to serve them.
My story of systemic injustice is centered around the story of a young Black male student I worked with who struggled behaviorally, academically, economically, and in his family life. The student was in 6th grade, had already been expelled from three different schools, and was in danger of being expelled from the school where I worked. This student was hungry for learning but was struggling to pay attention in his classes, follow classroom expectations, follow school expectations (he was always fighting), and with housing. He had been struggling with these difficulties all of his life, and no other school had taken the time to meet with his family, get him assessed, and get him the (limited) care the school district offered. He was basically falling through the cracks, so I worked with several support staff to try to get him some help Home life was difficult and the student support team struggled to connect with his guardians. We also learned from his grandmother that previous assessments revealed the student may have been showing signs of bipolar disorder, and so it was all hands on deck to try to get this student the support needed and protect him from being expelled from yet another school. What this student needed was assessment and support in a school that could help him understand not only how he learns, but also the societal factors he experienced every day of his life. This child did not have the privilege of just working through his experience as a learner because he also needed support surviving systemic and institutional traumas. Our efforts to support this student were not excellent, but we tried our best to support him in an educational system that does not have structures in place to support students like him, of which there are a lot! As I transitioned from interim Assistant Principal back into the classroom, I enlisted the help of the Okay Program, which was run by Black male police officers to support young Black men in schools and bridge the relationship between Black males and the police. Our site representative took the reins on visiting the student’s family, working with his mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and get the process started on having the student assessed for bipolar and learning differences so that he could qualify for a school with on-site counseling and housing programs. Ultimately, I still don’t know if the route we took was the best for the student because we were still operating within a broken system, however. Something needed to change for him and I do believe he experienced some positive change because of our efforts.
Anonymous
Aug 25, 2022
Having known accommodations creates separation between students in the classroom, however not accommodating more severe disabilities or difficulties can cause worse problems down the line for the student in question. Additionally, singling out, not granting IEPs, incorrect or misinformation regarding diagnoses (which creates issues with the understanding of the presentation of disorders), having a lack of information of things like CAPD, and treatment being mistargeted to assume that someone is more able or less able than they actually are can all do the same, further enforcing the power hierarchy of special education.
Within schools, some special education teachers can harbor biases and focus on students who have more difficulties than the others rather than focusing on the strengths of students who are succeeding despite the challenges they have overcome. They may also give less attention to those they perceive to be more abled.
Many special education teachers can be ableist. The name “special” education sounds patronizing, and some special education teachers have a savior complex or a sort of feeling of superiority for helping this minority group. The needs of an autistic person are not “special” needs. They are only “special” because our world is not made for them and is not inclusive. Their needs have not been considered seriously in the past (and present, seemingly), and are thus deemed as exceptional, so they are “special.” The term “special” needs makes it sound as though we are doing them a favor by accommodating them or that they are a burden on society when in reality they are seeking to be able to have as much success as a neurotypical person. And, as such, most of the people who make the laws and the decisions are neurotypical and therefore do not understand the struggles that disabled people have to even reach the same playing field as them. The way we “include” and “help” the disabled is in a way that makes them assimilate to a system or situation created for neurotypicals. The term “disabled” is also ableist in and of itself; it says, “If you’re not like me, you are disabled and I am abled,” with the subtext being “I’m better than you, I am the standard.” In reality, technically no one is disabled; people are just differently abled in a society not conducive to them, therefore disabling them and subsequently labelling them as “disabled” which continues to disable them further.
Finally, laws and policies that deal with disability rights are often ableist in their language. IDEA, for example, uses very vague language and states that those with disabilities are guaranteed “access” to the services they require. It does not, however, guarantee that they will receive those services.
A previous client I worked with experienced ambivalent ableism within his segregated Special Education school. He was in a highly limited environment with teachers and social workers that did not value or respect him and his disability. His mother once expressed frustration and concern about one particular teacher who would yell at her son if he wandered off and would swear at him and grab him roughly. The system was set up to protect the teachers, as they were “special ed teachers” and “knew what they were doing,” as well as other workers as opposed to the children. When his parents brought this to the school, the administration and other faculty vouched for this woman, and the school authorities and teachers did not make any changes regarding her involvement with the child or her poor behavior. This was apparently one of many times the parents had brought concerns to the school and received no response or action, only affirmations of the teacher who was continuously abusive towards him just because she had the power to be. The system invalidated this family’s concerns and ability to do anything about it. Because I was employed by a private ABA company, I had no involvement with the school. I did, however, work with the child’s mother, hearing and validating her feelings and experiences. I continuously assured her that I and my team would help her. I advocated for her and her son by bringing the concerns to the BCBA and case supervisor so they could more closely work with the parents and formulate a plan and a way to communicate with the school without fear of retaliation or any consequences or further danger to her son. It was difficult for me to act as an advocate solely because of my limited ability as a BT to be involved, but I was able to direct the student’s parents to the right person who could remedy the situation and improve their son’s education experience and safety.
Anonymous
May 10, 2023
Growing up in a family of academics where both of my parents were professors and then eventually University administrators, I know firsthand the anxiety and depression and stress associated with wanting to be successful and meeting parents expectations. Being the only child in my family with a learning disability meant that I had to work twice as hard to meet my parents expectations. When my high school guidance counselor questioned why I was so anxious instead of framing their concern in a way that would be supportive, she accused my parents of creating an environment that fostered anxiety and stress. The problem with this was that instead of realizing that I might have needed some additional support and accommodations in the classroom, she focused on symptoms of my disability instead of accommodating what I really needed. This is often the case with twice-exceptional students, because they appear to be successful. They get good grades, so why would they need more? In my case, my parents realized that I needed support and had me privately assessed and then got me support outside of that, which basically changed my own perspective on my learning.
When I did my undergraduate degree, I came in with the 504 plan and was able to get accommodations, and I also went to a small college, which made it easier for me to get those supports. Despite that and despite the positive learning environment that I was in, I still managed to get a professor or two who refused to give me accommodations simply because their belief was that I could either sink or swim in their class and they were not going to give me accommodations. This experience is a classic example of ableism. The professor who told me that I would either sink or swim believed that I did not need additional support and that he could not help me and therefore I was on my own.
While pursuing my master’s degree in Special Education, I experienced a really baffling situation for someone who was in a program specifically focused on special education. I had the director of the program as a professor, and she refused to give me an accommodation that I had on my 504 to test in an alternative setting for my midterm. The result of this refusal was that I had a full-on panic attack during the midterm, and I was not comfortable requesting that accommodation again because it was going to draw attention to myself or to my anxiety attack during the exam. When I went to Disability Services after this experience to get support, the professor’s response was that I hadn’t said anything and that I had gotten an A on the test, so why does it matter? It matters because accommodations are meant to level the playing field, and when they are not given to somebody because the professor doesn’t feel like it or because they don’t think that a student needs accommodations or when they say something like “you’re an adult now you shouldn’t need accommodations”, it makes it more challenging to want to disclose or even request accommodations in that environment.
Even after I finished my master’s program, I completed two additional graduate certificate programs to advance in my career. In each of those programs, I again had to fight for accommodations or get clarification or explain to somebody why I needed something done in a certain way despite the fact that I had advocated for myself all semester and made sure that the professor knew what I needed. These ableist tendencies, even if they’re unintentional, can make it very stressful to be a student no matter what environment they are in.
I think the core problem underlying most of those bad experiences is that we as a society do not have a widespread or accurate understanding of what it actually means to have a disability or what expectations are reasonable for those with disabilities. Educators often tend to view requests for disability accommodations in the same way as they would an irresponsible student asking for an extension: it can appear as an excuse to not do the same work as other students, even though in reality it is a formally diagnosed problem that truly needs the accommodations in order for the student to succeed. But without specialized training, it can be hard for educators to tell the difference.
This problem is exacerbated by those few people with disabilities that attempt to use their disability as an excuse for not actually doing their work. As an example, my sister had a colleague at a law school who tried to use his disability to not do his job. He would constantly make excuses for why he couldn’t meet deadlines or couldn’t do a task assigned to him because “I have X disability”. This was not a request for accommodations; it was a simple refusal to do his job. It is absolutely reasonable to request accommodations, but it is not reasonable to still not do your job with those supports in place. And when educators and employers encounter this kind of person, it only reinforces their incorrect bias that people citing disabilities are just slackers trying to get out of doing work.
Ultimately, though, whatever the causes, the fact that I have had to fight for accommodations at every level of my education is just flat out disturbing. It should not be this hard to be granted the accommodations and supports that I need to be able to access the curriculum the same way that all my peers do. Yet, it is always an uphill battle.
Anonymous
March 16, 2023
I was diagnosed with ADHD in first grade. It was the reason I was having issues turning in assignments and focusing but I didn’t realize it. During elementary it was very hard for me to learn because I couldn’t focus. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my mother had to go to a 504 meeting to make it easier for me to learn. In fifth grade I had really bad issues with procrastination, It made it hard for me to complete assignments on time and my teacher talked about that with me. At that moment when she talked to me, I thought about how annoying it was to be a kid with ADHD because it was harder for me to turn assignments in on time. I had to take medicine to help me with it, and I personally felt different from everyone else and I couldn’t make friends because they all thought I was awkward and way too energetic. My medicine helped me a bit but I had to take more mg of it because it hadn’t helped much. Then I hit sixth grade and it all changed. I was starting to get insecure about it and the fact that nobody wanted to be friends with me because to them I was annoying. It is still hard for me to make friends because I have ADHD. People think it only affects school but it affects my social life, home life, and just my overall life. I had my 504 meeting late in the year and it was very frustrating for me because I had no accommodations because my paperwork was signed late. To me, ADHD is a superpower because it is a blessing and a curse. For instance, it allows me to hyperfocus and think differently than others, but it also makes my life harder with people thinking I’m just overall lazy or too energetic. I wish people would understand the struggles of ADHD because it would be nice to have people who understand that it’s not just something that makes it harder to learn.
Anonymous
Oct 02, 2022
Special Education and Educational Therapy promote ableism because both fields essentially function with the goal of supporting students in order to help them achieve at the same level as their neurotypical peers or fit in better with their peers. Essentially, both fields center the needs of people in power because the work we are expected to do is designed to teach learners how to conform to the standards of traditional schooling, which is determined and policed by people in power.
Typically, students are recommended for testing if they “stand out”, are struggling, or not functioning at the same level as other students in the classroom. Usually, a family member or teacher brings the student’s behavior or performance to the attention of others on the basis of how well they are functioning within the status quo. For example, if a student seems to be more energetic than others and needs to move around in order to focus when most of the other students in a classroom sit still at their desks, the energetic student will most likely be recommended for evaluation and testing. The student’s performance and behavior in class and at home is evaluated by teachers, family members, and others who are able to observe this student in an educational setting, and based on those observations, the student is tested and diagnosed. The process for diagnosis is ableist because standards for observation and testing are based on what neurotypical students are able to do and what the student in question is not able to do.
Special education and educational therapy practices in schools and classrooms are also ableist because the way in which both fields are expected to support students in a school or classroom setting is all based on helping students function at the level of their neurotypical peers. School and classroom rules/expectations are typically set based on how the adults in these settings want students to conduct themselves, and not usually based on what each individual student can actually do. Granted, some expectations are set based on safety, however, many rules and expectations reinforce bureaucratic policies, mindsets, and whit supremacist culture. For example, most schools are required to conduct standardized testing, sometimes multiple times a year. This is a required practice statewide and nationwide and results are used to determine levels at which our young people are “achieving”. We all know that standardized testing is a one-size-fits-all model, there is no space for neurodiverse minds to share what they know because standards are based on what folks in power think neurotypical students should be able to do. Additionally, most schools receive funding or recognition based on their test scores, which holds so many other implications, such as teaching to tests, lack of resources, and school closures. The day-to-day operations of school and classrooms inherently benefit very few students and leave many behind, including neurodiverse students.
Additionally, there are a disproportionate amount of BIPOC students and students from low-income households represented in special education or not being evaluated and supported early enough and so we have to question whether the system we operate in makes space for these students’ abilities, values, and cultures. Schools are already violent spaces for BIPOC students, which means there really is no space for BIPOC neurodiverse learners because the education system in the United States was not built to serve them.
My story of systemic injustice is centered around the story of a young Black male student I worked with who struggled behaviorally, academically, economically, and in his family life. The student was in 6th grade, had already been expelled from three different schools, and was in danger of being expelled from the school where I worked. This student was hungry for learning but was struggling to pay attention in his classes, follow classroom expectations, follow school expectations (he was always fighting), and with housing. He had been struggling with these difficulties all of his life, and no other school had taken the time to meet with his family, get him assessed, and get him the (limited) care the school district offered. He was basically falling through the cracks, so I worked with several support staff to try to get him some help Home life was difficult and the student support team struggled to connect with his guardians. We also learned from his grandmother that previous assessments revealed the student may have been showing signs of bipolar disorder, and so it was all hands on deck to try to get this student the support needed and protect him from being expelled from yet another school. What this student needed was assessment and support in a school that could help him understand not only how he learns, but also the societal factors he experienced every day of his life. This child did not have the privilege of just working through his experience as a learner because he also needed support surviving systemic and institutional traumas. Our efforts to support this student were not excellent, but we tried our best to support him in an educational system that does not have structures in place to support students like him, of which there are a lot! As I transitioned from interim Assistant Principal back into the classroom, I enlisted the help of the Okay Program, which was run by Black male police officers to support young Black men in schools and bridge the relationship between Black males and the police. Our site representative took the reins on visiting the student’s family, working with his mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and get the process started on having the student assessed for bipolar and learning differences so that he could qualify for a school with on-site counseling and housing programs. Ultimately, I still don’t know if the route we took was the best for the student because we were still operating within a broken system, however. Something needed to change for him and I do believe he experienced some positive change because of our efforts.
Anonymous
Aug 25, 2022
Having known accommodations creates separation between students in the classroom, however not accommodating more severe disabilities or difficulties can cause worse problems down the line for the student in question. Additionally, singling out, not granting IEPs, incorrect or misinformation regarding diagnoses (which creates issues with the understanding of the presentation of disorders), having a lack of information of things like CAPD, and treatment being mistargeted to assume that someone is more able or less able than they actually are can all do the same, further enforcing the power hierarchy of special education.
Within schools, some special education teachers can harbor biases and focus on students who have more difficulties than the others rather than focusing on the strengths of students who are succeeding despite the challenges they have overcome. They may also give less attention to those they perceive to be more abled.
Many special education teachers can be ableist. The name “special” education sounds patronizing, and some special education teachers have a savior complex or a sort of feeling of superiority for helping this minority group. The needs of an autistic person are not “special” needs. They are only “special” because our world is not made for them and is not inclusive. Their needs have not been considered seriously in the past (and present, seemingly), and are thus deemed as exceptional, so they are “special.” The term “special” needs makes it sound as though we are doing them a favor by accommodating them or that they are a burden on society when in reality they are seeking to be able to have as much success as a neurotypical person. And, as such, most of the people who make the laws and the decisions are neurotypical and therefore do not understand the struggles that disabled people have to even reach the same playing field as them. The way we “include” and “help” the disabled is in a way that makes them assimilate to a system or situation created for neurotypicals. The term “disabled” is also ableist in and of itself; it says, “If you’re not like me, you are disabled and I am abled,” with the subtext being “I’m better than you, I am the standard.” In reality, technically no one is disabled; people are just differently abled in a society not conducive to them, therefore disabling them and subsequently labelling them as “disabled” which continues to disable them further.
Finally, laws and policies that deal with disability rights are often ableist in their language. IDEA, for example, uses very vague language and states that those with disabilities are guaranteed “access” to the services they require. It does not, however, guarantee that they will receive those services.
A previous client I worked with experienced ambivalent ableism within his segregated Special Education school. He was in a highly limited environment with teachers and social workers that did not value or respect him and his disability. His mother once expressed frustration and concern about one particular teacher who would yell at her son if he wandered off and would swear at him and grab him roughly. The system was set up to protect the teachers, as they were “special ed teachers” and “knew what they were doing,” as well as other workers as opposed to the children. When his parents brought this to the school, the administration and other faculty vouched for this woman, and the school authorities and teachers did not make any changes regarding her involvement with the child or her poor behavior. This was apparently one of many times the parents had brought concerns to the school and received no response or action, only affirmations of the teacher who was continuously abusive towards him just because she had the power to be. The system invalidated this family’s concerns and ability to do anything about it. Because I was employed by a private ABA company, I had no involvement with the school. I did, however, work with the child’s mother, hearing and validating her feelings and experiences. I continuously assured her that I and my team would help her. I advocated for her and her son by bringing the concerns to the BCBA and case supervisor so they could more closely work with the parents and formulate a plan and a way to communicate with the school without fear of retaliation or any consequences or further danger to her son. It was difficult for me to act as an advocate solely because of my limited ability as a BT to be involved, but I was able to direct the student’s parents to the right person who could remedy the situation and improve their son’s education experience and safety.
Anonymous
May 10, 2023
Growing up in a family of academics where both of my parents were professors and then eventually University administrators, I know firsthand the anxiety and depression and stress associated with wanting to be successful and meeting parents expectations. Being the only child in my family with a learning disability meant that I had to work twice as hard to meet my parents expectations. When my high school guidance counselor questioned why I was so anxious instead of framing their concern in a way that would be supportive, she accused my parents of creating an environment that fostered anxiety and stress. The problem with this was that instead of realizing that I might have needed some additional support and accommodations in the classroom, she focused on symptoms of my disability instead of accommodating what I really needed. This is often the case with twice-exceptional students, because they appear to be successful. They get good grades, so why would they need more? In my case, my parents realized that I needed support and had me privately assessed and then got me support outside of that, which basically changed my own perspective on my learning.
When I did my undergraduate degree, I came in with the 504 plan and was able to get accommodations, and I also went to a small college, which made it easier for me to get those supports. Despite that and despite the positive learning environment that I was in, I still managed to get a professor or two who refused to give me accommodations simply because their belief was that I could either sink or swim in their class and they were not going to give me accommodations. This experience is a classic example of ableism. The professor who told me that I would either sink or swim believed that I did not need additional support and that he could not help me and therefore I was on my own.
While pursuing my master’s degree in Special Education, I experienced a really baffling situation for someone who was in a program specifically focused on special education. I had the director of the program as a professor, and she refused to give me an accommodation that I had on my 504 to test in an alternative setting for my midterm. The result of this refusal was that I had a full-on panic attack during the midterm, and I was not comfortable requesting that accommodation again because it was going to draw attention to myself or to my anxiety attack during the exam. When I went to Disability Services after this experience to get support, the professor’s response was that I hadn’t said anything and that I had gotten an A on the test, so why does it matter? It matters because accommodations are meant to level the playing field, and when they are not given to somebody because the professor doesn’t feel like it or because they don’t think that a student needs accommodations or when they say something like “you’re an adult now you shouldn’t need accommodations”, it makes it more challenging to want to disclose or even request accommodations in that environment.
Even after I finished my master’s program, I completed two additional graduate certificate programs to advance in my career. In each of those programs, I again had to fight for accommodations or get clarification or explain to somebody why I needed something done in a certain way despite the fact that I had advocated for myself all semester and made sure that the professor knew what I needed. These ableist tendencies, even if they’re unintentional, can make it very stressful to be a student no matter what environment they are in.
I think the core problem underlying most of those bad experiences is that we as a society do not have a widespread or accurate understanding of what it actually means to have a disability or what expectations are reasonable for those with disabilities. Educators often tend to view requests for disability accommodations in the same way as they would an irresponsible student asking for an extension: it can appear as an excuse to not do the same work as other students, even though in reality it is a formally diagnosed problem that truly needs the accommodations in order for the student to succeed. But without specialized training, it can be hard for educators to tell the difference.
This problem is exacerbated by those few people with disabilities that attempt to use their disability as an excuse for not actually doing their work. As an example, my sister had a colleague at a law school who tried to use his disability to not do his job. He would constantly make excuses for why he couldn’t meet deadlines or couldn’t do a task assigned to him because “I have X disability”. This was not a request for accommodations; it was a simple refusal to do his job. It is absolutely reasonable to request accommodations, but it is not reasonable to still not do your job with those supports in place. And when educators and employers encounter this kind of person, it only reinforces their incorrect bias that people citing disabilities are just slackers trying to get out of doing work.
Ultimately, though, whatever the causes, the fact that I have had to fight for accommodations at every level of my education is just flat out disturbing. It should not be this hard to be granted the accommodations and supports that I need to be able to access the curriculum the same way that all my peers do. Yet, it is always an uphill battle.
Anonymous
March 16, 2023
I was diagnosed with ADHD in first grade. It was the reason I was having issues turning in assignments and focusing but I didn’t realize it. During elementary it was very hard for me to learn because I couldn’t focus. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, my mother had to go to a 504 meeting to make it easier for me to learn. In fifth grade I had really bad issues with procrastination, It made it hard for me to complete assignments on time and my teacher talked about that with me. At that moment when she talked to me, I thought about how annoying it was to be a kid with ADHD because it was harder for me to turn assignments in on time. I had to take medicine to help me with it, and I personally felt different from everyone else and I couldn’t make friends because they all thought I was awkward and way too energetic. My medicine helped me a bit but I had to take more mg of it because it hadn’t helped much. Then I hit sixth grade and it all changed. I was starting to get insecure about it and the fact that nobody wanted to be friends with me because to them I was annoying. It is still hard for me to make friends because I have ADHD. People think it only affects school but it affects my social life, home life, and just my overall life. I had my 504 meeting late in the year and it was very frustrating for me because I had no accommodations because my paperwork was signed late. To me, ADHD is a superpower because it is a blessing and a curse. For instance, it allows me to hyperfocus and think differently than others, but it also makes my life harder with people thinking I’m just overall lazy or too energetic. I wish people would understand the struggles of ADHD because it would be nice to have people who understand that it’s not just something that makes it harder to learn.
Anonymous
Oct 02, 2022
Special Education and Educational Therapy promote ableism because both fields essentially function with the goal of supporting students in order to help them achieve at the same level as their neurotypical peers or fit in better with their peers. Essentially, both fields center the needs of people in power because the work we are expected to do is designed to teach learners how to conform to the standards of traditional schooling, which is determined and policed by people in power.
Typically, students are recommended for testing if they “stand out”, are struggling, or not functioning at the same level as other students in the classroom. Usually, a family member or teacher brings the student’s behavior or performance to the attention of others on the basis of how well they are functioning within the status quo. For example, if a student seems to be more energetic than others and needs to move around in order to focus when most of the other students in a classroom sit still at their desks, the energetic student will most likely be recommended for evaluation and testing. The student’s performance and behavior in class and at home is evaluated by teachers, family members, and others who are able to observe this student in an educational setting, and based on those observations, the student is tested and diagnosed. The process for diagnosis is ableist because standards for observation and testing are based on what neurotypical students are able to do and what the student in question is not able to do.
Special education and educational therapy practices in schools and classrooms are also ableist because the way in which both fields are expected to support students in a school or classroom setting is all based on helping students function at the level of their neurotypical peers. School and classroom rules/expectations are typically set based on how the adults in these settings want students to conduct themselves, and not usually based on what each individual student can actually do. Granted, some expectations are set based on safety, however, many rules and expectations reinforce bureaucratic policies, mindsets, and whit supremacist culture. For example, most schools are required to conduct standardized testing, sometimes multiple times a year. This is a required practice statewide and nationwide and results are used to determine levels at which our young people are “achieving”. We all know that standardized testing is a one-size-fits-all model, there is no space for neurodiverse minds to share what they know because standards are based on what folks in power think neurotypical students should be able to do. Additionally, most schools receive funding or recognition based on their test scores, which holds so many other implications, such as teaching to tests, lack of resources, and school closures. The day-to-day operations of school and classrooms inherently benefit very few students and leave many behind, including neurodiverse students.
Additionally, there are a disproportionate amount of BIPOC students and students from low-income households represented in special education or not being evaluated and supported early enough and so we have to question whether the system we operate in makes space for these students’ abilities, values, and cultures. Schools are already violent spaces for BIPOC students, which means there really is no space for BIPOC neurodiverse learners because the education system in the United States was not built to serve them.
My story of systemic injustice is centered around the story of a young Black male student I worked with who struggled behaviorally, academically, economically, and in his family life. The student was in 6th grade, had already been expelled from three different schools, and was in danger of being expelled from the school where I worked. This student was hungry for learning but was struggling to pay attention in his classes, follow classroom expectations, follow school expectations (he was always fighting), and with housing. He had been struggling with these difficulties all of his life, and no other school had taken the time to meet with his family, get him assessed, and get him the (limited) care the school district offered. He was basically falling through the cracks, so I worked with several support staff to try to get him some help Home life was difficult and the student support team struggled to connect with his guardians. We also learned from his grandmother that previous assessments revealed the student may have been showing signs of bipolar disorder, and so it was all hands on deck to try to get this student the support needed and protect him from being expelled from yet another school. What this student needed was assessment and support in a school that could help him understand not only how he learns, but also the societal factors he experienced every day of his life. This child did not have the privilege of just working through his experience as a learner because he also needed support surviving systemic and institutional traumas. Our efforts to support this student were not excellent, but we tried our best to support him in an educational system that does not have structures in place to support students like him, of which there are a lot! As I transitioned from interim Assistant Principal back into the classroom, I enlisted the help of the Okay Program, which was run by Black male police officers to support young Black men in schools and bridge the relationship between Black males and the police. Our site representative took the reins on visiting the student’s family, working with his mother to sign the necessary paperwork, and get the process started on having the student assessed for bipolar and learning differences so that he could qualify for a school with on-site counseling and housing programs. Ultimately, I still don’t know if the route we took was the best for the student because we were still operating within a broken system, however. Something needed to change for him and I do believe he experienced some positive change because of our efforts.
Anonymous
Aug 25, 2022
Having known accommodations creates separation between students in the classroom, however not accommodating more severe disabilities or difficulties can cause worse problems down the line for the student in question. Additionally, singling out, not granting IEPs, incorrect or misinformation regarding diagnoses (which creates issues with the understanding of the presentation of disorders), having a lack of information of things like CAPD, and treatment being mistargeted to assume that someone is more able or less able than they actually are can all do the same, further enforcing the power hierarchy of special education.
Within schools, some special education teachers can harbor biases and focus on students who have more difficulties than the others rather than focusing on the strengths of students who are succeeding despite the challenges they have overcome. They may also give less attention to those they perceive to be more abled.
Many special education teachers can be ableist. The name “special” education sounds patronizing, and some special education teachers have a savior complex or a sort of feeling of superiority for helping this minority group. The needs of an autistic person are not “special” needs. They are only “special” because our world is not made for them and is not inclusive. Their needs have not been considered seriously in the past (and present, seemingly), and are thus deemed as exceptional, so they are “special.” The term “special” needs makes it sound as though we are doing them a favor by accommodating them or that they are a burden on society when in reality they are seeking to be able to have as much success as a neurotypical person. And, as such, most of the people who make the laws and the decisions are neurotypical and therefore do not understand the struggles that disabled people have to even reach the same playing field as them. The way we “include” and “help” the disabled is in a way that makes them assimilate to a system or situation created for neurotypicals. The term “disabled” is also ableist in and of itself; it says, “If you’re not like me, you are disabled and I am abled,” with the subtext being “I’m better than you, I am the standard.” In reality, technically no one is disabled; people are just differently abled in a society not conducive to them, therefore disabling them and subsequently labelling them as “disabled” which continues to disable them further.
Finally, laws and policies that deal with disability rights are often ableist in their language. IDEA, for example, uses very vague language and states that those with disabilities are guaranteed “access” to the services they require. It does not, however, guarantee that they will receive those services.
A previous client I worked with experienced ambivalent ableism within his segregated Special Education school. He was in a highly limited environment with teachers and social workers that did not value or respect him and his disability. His mother once expressed frustration and concern about one particular teacher who would yell at her son if he wandered off and would swear at him and grab him roughly. The system was set up to protect the teachers, as they were “special ed teachers” and “knew what they were doing,” as well as other workers as opposed to the children. When his parents brought this to the school, the administration and other faculty vouched for this woman, and the school authorities and teachers did not make any changes regarding her involvement with the child or her poor behavior. This was apparently one of many times the parents had brought concerns to the school and received no response or action, only affirmations of the teacher who was continuously abusive towards him just because she had the power to be. The system invalidated this family’s concerns and ability to do anything about it. Because I was employed by a private ABA company, I had no involvement with the school. I did, however, work with the child’s mother, hearing and validating her feelings and experiences. I continuously assured her that I and my team would help her. I advocated for her and her son by bringing the concerns to the BCBA and case supervisor so they could more closely work with the parents and formulate a plan and a way to communicate with the school without fear of retaliation or any consequences or further danger to her son. It was difficult for me to act as an advocate solely because of my limited ability as a BT to be involved, but I was able to direct the student’s parents to the right person who could remedy the situation and improve their son’s education experience and safety.
Kerrie’s Story
I have always felt misunderstood, isolated, and sometimes frustrated when it comes to my learning disability. A lot of people don’t realize how much it has affected me on a daily basis. Many of my classmates, professors, friends, and even family members don’t understand why I need extended time, why my processing speed is slower, or the struggles I have to face in school. But I am so grateful to have my therapists’ support and guidance throughout these years because without them I would not be where I am today. I learned that everyone is unique and has obstacles/challenges they have to overcome in life. I hope sharing my experience will get people to understand that everyone is going through something even though they look fine and to be more compassionate and patient to those around them.
Thanks,
Kerri
