Mirroring of Experiences in Special Education: A Story of Transparency Part 2

Exploring personal narratives in special education, "Mirroring of Experiences: A Story of Transparency, Part 2" delves into the power of candid storytelling, set against a serene watercolor backdrop and a monochrome floral motif.

If you are new, "Mirroring Experiences in Special Education: A Story of Transparency" is very much my story and my family's story of our experiences in the special education world. This is part two of my family's experience in the special education system. I would encourage you to go back and read part one before moving on. However, for those of you who have read it, I am sure you have noticed some similarities in your own life, and if so, I want you to know that I am sorry. I'm sorry that you, your family, and your child have to experience that. However, if you haven't, then I rejoice with you, because I don't wish this on anyone.

Instead, let my story be a testament to the fact that there are mirroring experiences in special education. Also, understand that your story doesn't have to match mine exactly, but if you find yourselves feeling betrayed by your school or school district, always at odds, feeling bullied or intimidated, then know that you are not alone. Also know that this is only proof that change is needed. No family should ever have to feel like we did, and no student either.

Residential School Programs -

"Illuminated text on a serene, pastel background, highlighting the phrase 'Residential School' against a soothing blend of blues and pinks."

When I left off last, my daughter had been placed in a residential facility from Nov. 2013 to Feb 2014. During that time, she would have home visits, each time my daughter would have episodes, where I was the one who was attacked. Each time, her visit home came with the understanding that she had to be safe. However, once I recall, she was home for a visit and was not safe. When we tried to follow through with the return to the facility, she attacked me in the car. My best friend was in the passenger seat, trying to get her off of me. Usually, when she attacked me in the car, it was a shoe to the head and kicking the back of my seat very hard. This time, she was pulling my hair, punching me, and clawing me. I had managed to get the car pulled out of the driveway and into the street when she began to attack me. It was so bad that my husband ran out to help, and I had to blindly throw my car into park. These attacks became the norm, making it hard for me to transport her to school at times.

My daughter began school at the residential facility during that time, but when she came home in February, it didn’t last long. She started to refuse again. She had reasons why she hated it there. We had another meeting. This time, she was moved to another school program at another residential facility. They told me, “Just get her here, and we can manage the behaviors.” So, I did. That place was 27 minutes away (on a good day and no traffic) and 17 miles away across interstates and other busy highways. That was the facility school where she eloped. She walked 1.8 miles from the facility and 0.4 miles from the interstate before an officer picked her up and returned her to the facility. I was not notified till after the incident. This caused more problems because her fear of the police was just reinforced.

It was at this school that getting to school became more difficult. She began missing more days, and I had been in contact with my case manager at the district. At the time, I explained the situation and how it was getting more dangerous to transport her. I was told we wouldn’t worry about it over the summer and that we would come up with a plan for the fall to just get her there when I could. Which I did. However, come the fall, two things happened. First, the school removed her from their program, citing that I was not supporting them. Which was a lie. The second, I was informed that she had to return to school full-time and attend full days, or they would take me to truancy court. I was told I had until February to do so. So, then she moved to a new school.

New Out of District School and legal battles-

A wooden gavel rests on a sound block, symbolizing justice and authority, with balanced scales in the background highlighting the pursuit of fairness in the legal system.

At this point, my daughter began a new school program at an out-of-district school specializing in autism. However, in November of that year, I was still fighting to get my daughter to school. I had been in constant contact with my advocate and the district about what was happening. I was reminded that I had till February to get her full-time or it would be court. Unfortunately, on the first day of Thanksgiving break, I was served a summons for truancy court. The date was set for two weeks. I had zero time to get a lawyer and zero money. Thankfully, my dad stepped in. We spoke with one lawyer, who wanted to countersue the district for a couple of million dollars. I walked away from them. That’s not what I wanted. Instead, I found a lawyer who went to bat for us. He contacted the district’s lawyer, then my husband and me. He asked us to come into his office, which we agreed. When we got there, he told us about the conversation… (this is what was said, paraphrased.)

Lawyer: “I spoke with the district’s lawyer. I know him well in cases like this. I asked if he knew that he was taking a special needs student with severe needs with an IEP and Behavior plan, and her family to court. His response was, ‘Oh, I was not aware of that. I was told I  was taking a juvenile delinquent and her family to court.’ I then told him to advise his clients to drop the court date, which he agreed to.”

As you can see, the district not only violated the timeframe in which they originally gave us, but then they labeled my daughter (a child with autism and intellectual disability) as a “juvenile delinquent.” They lied to their district lawyer about whom they were taking to court and painted a false idea of who my daughter was. One could say that it was a mistake, but I say it wasn’t. How could a district just “mistakenly” call a special needs student within their district a “juvenile delinquent”? To make it worse, my daughter now had severe trauma, which was caused by the district’s school and staff, and that also impacted her in such a way that she refused to go to school. They literally created the problem, and when the outcome of their actions was school refusal, they tried to punish us for it. Needless to say, we had a mediation meeting, and it was at that meeting that the district realized that we were not playing around.

New School –

A father and son share a joyful high-five during a home learning session, surrounded by educational toys and books.

As I stated, my daughter ended up starting at a new out-of-district placement school. It was an autism specific school. After some time, we were able to get her going full-time, but it was a fight to get there. It was at this school that my daughter finally started to make some progress. She connected with a staff member there and began making progress in both academics and behavior at school. Home was another issue. We still saw constant levels of behaviors and episodes at home. In fact, there were times when my car broke down, and I had to rely on my mom to get me to and from. Yes, I was still required to drive her to and from, because even though the distance warranted transportation, the district refused to provide it. The worst experience, though, was in 2016. My daughter had an episode, and as a result, I slipped a disk in my back from having to deal with it. My back got so bad that I couldn’t walk or drive. All I could do was lie on my left side for about 3-4 months. Which means I had to rely on people to drive us around, because my husband was busy working to keep our house running. The disk was compressed on my sciatic nerve for that long, and eventually, I was given surgery in April of that year to correct it. Unfortunately, in May, my husband had a work-related injury that came from his arm catching fire at work. I was on a driving restriction after my surgery, and I couldn’t drive my daughter to school or get to my husband at the hospital without someone driving me.

Needless to say, my daughter did make progress there, so much so that the district took advantage of the fact that my daughter was requesting to go back to regular school. I disagreed; I didn’t see it as a good idea. I was afraid she would regress, and that’s exactly what happened.

High School –

Entrance to a high school building displaying a clock and framed by a series of elegant streetlights.

For high school, my daughter wanted to attend regular school. She was determined to do it, but I had a bad feeling about it, and sure enough, I was right. We tried to get her more support through a para, but we were denied, because the “district doesn’t provide one and one paras.” So my daughter had to split her time between the para in the program and other students, which worked against her. My daughter needed more support; she began to struggle again. First, she didn’t want anyone, but when she realized that she did, there wasn’t enough support for her. On top of that, the work she was given was never modified in accordance with her IEP. So, once again, she began refusing to attend school. She didn’t want to be at the specialty school anymore because a student there was upsetting her. Her view of the school had changed as well to the point that she went back to the previous mindset of, “I’m stupid. My autism means I’m stupid and there’s something wrong with me.” When she started refusing again, we had no choice but to send her to live with my mom in Florida to avoid a truancy court hearing.

A young boy sits on the ground, covering his face with his hands while two children stand around him pointing, highlighting a moment of conflict and bullying.

Now it’s important to know that she had that mindset about herself way before then. In Elementary school, she thought that about herself. When she was turned away from a Girl Scout troop (despite my agreement to be there full-time) due to her disability, it reinforced the idea that there was something wrong with her. All those years of being sent home, all those times when people walked out on her (home providers, school, people she thought were friends, etc.). Let me be frank here: At one point, my daughter heard a child repeat words to her by an adult, a parent who didn’t know what was happening. Words that cut her deep, words that she heard in elementary school. Those words were, “I’m not allowed to play with you anymore, because my mom is afraid I will catch what you have.” Catch. Like, autism is something a person can catch. Like autism is a disease, and my daughter was “sick.” I will never forget the look in my daughter’s eyes when she came to me and told me this. The pain, the hurt, the disgust with herself, the confusion, and those feelings were repeatedly reinforced by the schools over the years. Add to that the trauma of literally being dragged from your home by an officer and a teacher, the pain of being touched, the frustration of being treated like she was just some random juvenile delinquent, the constant instigating of behaviors by school staff, and it’s no wonder my daughter refused school. Now, don’t get me wrong, my daughter does have some responsibility and accountability with regard to the decisions she made, and she understands that, but those decisions were made based on the treatment she received.

This is why I say things need to change. Things MUST change. I’ve experienced everything with my daughter, and my heart breaks every time I think about it. Yes, there are times when I do. But mostly out of gratefulness, because now things are a bit different.

My husband and I were at our daughter's graduation.

Now, my daughter is 23 years old, and she is finally thriving in life as best as a person can with her disabilities. She has tried to get a job, but can’t function without significant support, and she hasn’t found one that will provide it. While she didn’t get her high school diploma, she did get her GED. That was the best thing that has ever happened for our family. She took a GED program, where she did schoolwork on her own time, in a small setting, online most of the time, with her accommodations and access to one-on-one support from her instructor. While it took a couple of years, due to the math portion hanging her up, she finally earned her GED and walked the stage, something we never thought we would see.

Two hands gently hold each half of a torn paper heart, symbolizing love and heartbreak.

In the end, the GED program successfully did what the district could not and would not do. The district severely failed my daughter, and in the process, they created a significant amount of trauma. I suspect that she has PTSD, and I know that she has trust issues. The only people she remembers in a good light are her art teacher and the teacher at the last out-of-district school she attended. Her art teacher was the one who gave my daughter a love for art, specifically drawing, and I’m grateful for that because I think she is pretty good, not just because she is my daughter. Unfortunately, though, she has no fond memories of school. She never got a prom or other experiences. She does think about not graduating high school with her friends from time to time, and that breaks my heart. My daughter got robbed of a high school experience. We got robbed of seeing our daughter go through high school, of experiencing a child going to prom, and of watching our daughter walk across a stage at her high school graduation. If the district had done its job and worked with us instead of against us, perhaps we could still have experienced all those things with our daughter. There is no yearbook for high school or middle school. We only have yearbooks from K to 3^rd grade for our daughter. I truly believe that if the district had put my daughter first and worked with us, instead of against us, my daughter would have graduated, gotten a job, and maybe gone on to attend some sort of art college. But all of that is now out of reach.

Now, as a Para, I still see the same things happening, but I’m on the opposite side of the fence now. In the end, being a Para has confirmed that nothing has changed. Parents are bullied, the students are being left behind, there is a distrust between parents and the district, and there is zero partnership between the district and parents. I am a part of many local groups. I read stories from parents in other districts and schools about their experiences, and it mirrors ours. Even in my area, I read about families facing the same or similar difficulties, and the level of distrust that exists. All this proves is that things haven’t changed, and they need to.

A teacher and student walk hand-in-hand along a colorful path symbolizing steps toward inclusion and support, emphasizing that change begins with acceptance and understanding for every ability.

Now I want to address one more thing. I’ve been asked before, when sharing my story, “Why haven’t you filed a lawsuit against them?” My answer is simple: First, my family could not afford the fight it would take to win. Yes, I know we would win, but I also know it would be one heck of a fight, and my family didn’t need the stress that would come with it. Second, filing a lawsuit is easy, but it doesn’t bring about change. Sure, the story might hit the news, and some media outlet might do a story about it, but let’s be reasonable here. The district would have paid us off to let it go and move on, then brushed it under the rug and continued doing the same to other parents. That doesn’t work. What we need is change. Real change. Change that leads to student success. Change that brings parents and districts together as working partners, not adversaries. Change is exactly why I will never mention people's names or places. I’m not out for revenge. I’m not out to make someone’s life miserable. I have chosen to forgive those people and place them in God’s hands. I’ve stated before that I hope when the day of judgment comes, that Jesus will allow me to be there when they come before Him. Not so I can watch Jesus punish them, but so I can ask for Jesus to forgive them.

What I want, what I desire more than anything, is that we change the special education programs across the nation, that we create change that gives our students, our kids, a chance in life. That meets them where they are and helps them grow from there. That we create change that will bring districts, schools, teachers, and parents together as one partner. Districts are not the authority over our kids, and they should not be allowed to make and control the decisions about what is best for them without our involvement. We know our kids better than anyone else. For some of us, we have students who can thrive in a general education class with the support of an AN or SSN program. For others, we have students who do well with more support, smaller classrooms, shorter schedules, and or alternative placement. The goal should always be for short-term usage, with the goal to transition those students into regular AN or SSN programs and maybe (for those that grow the most) into a general education class with moderate support. However, this can’t happen until we make a change, until we push for change. My daughter is proof that, with the right support and environment, growth CAN happen. It was there when she was in her last out-of-district placement, and the proof is in her going into a GED program. No family should ever feel alone, betrayed, bullied, intimidated, lost, gaslighted, or manipulated. No special needs student should ever go without the supports they need, and they should not be forced into our world without us first stepping into theirs.  

So that is my story. It’s not all the tiny details, but it’s the main points. I wrote this in the spirit of transparency, and I want to communicate that with you. I want to be honest with you. This isn’t about me trying to get pity or sympathy; it’s about education, and it’s about change. I don’t know if change will ever come from this, but I hope it will, and I know it will only happen when we, as parents, come together as one voice for our kids. I also know it can only happen when we, as parents, are willing to step up and share our story.

If anything I have said in these posts has resonated with you, or if you know someone who is experiencing similar situations. Please consider sharing this with them so that they can see that they are not alone. One of the hardest things as a parent in these situations is feeling alone, unaware that others are going through the same thing. I would also encourage you to seek an advocate for support, if you have not done so yet.

In the meantime, keep fighting for your kids, and don’t be afraid to speak up! Make your voices heard! Come together as a community, because we are stronger together! Our kids need us to do that, future generations need us to do that. Trust that God will guide you and give you the strength to continue the fight. Finally, and most importantly, always remember and never forget that you are “Never Alone.”

God Bless,

K. M. Leffler

P.S. You can read the first blog entry here.