[IEP_guide] Standardized testing puts students with learning disabilities under increased pr

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Standardized testing puts students with learning

disabilities under

increased pressure

Tyler and other students with learning disabilities are under intense

pressure, with public education being driven by the FCATs

By Kahn

South Florida Sun-Sentinel Education Writer

June 11, 2006

The sneakers were perfect, striped like zebras with the all-important

Nike swoosh. Nathalie Lelie figured they could only help when her 11-

year-old autistic son walked into a regular classroom for the first

time.

" I want him starting off on the right foot, looking cool, " Nathalie

said. " Nothing to make fun of. "

Her son, Tyler, was given a shot at normalcy this year when his

school allowed him into the " mainstream " fourth grade. But as his

first day approached, Nathalie discovered that fitting in would be

just the first of her worries.

Thirty years ago, Congress forced public schools to accept disabled

children in what has become a landmark equal rights law. But with

standardized tests now driving public education, students with

disabilities are under pressure like never before.

The nearly 100,000 kids in South Florida with

learning disorders do

worse than any other group on the Florida Comprehensive Assessment

Test. Their poor performance puts pressure on classmates and

teachers, triggering school and countywide penalties under the No

Child Left Behind Act.

Yet the Florida Legislature has cut millions of dollars earmarked for

students with severe learning disorders. School districts also expect

to lose millions more from spending cuts in Congress, and the federal

government has scaled back " transition " programs that prepare

students with disabilities for an independent life.

If students like Tyler

are going to make it, advocates for the

handicapped say parents must learn how to shepherd them through the

school system. They need to know when to compromise with teachers and

when to fight.

" I thought I had a perfect child, " Nathalie, 36, of Lauderhill,

said

one morning when Tyler

was at school.

As a baby, Tyler

never threw tantrums. Ever. Even when kids his age

learned their first words, Tyler

remained unusually silent.

" What a good baby, " Nathalie said, shaking her head as the memories

ran through her mind.

" No. It was the disability. "

In 2001, when Tyler

was about to enter kindergarten, doctors

diagnosed him with mild autism and a neurological condition

called " pervasive developmental disorder. "

At school, and perhaps for the rest of his life, they said, Tyler

would not be able to communicate, play and relate to others as his

classmates could.

" I was like, `No, he doesn't have autism,' " she said. " I thought

it

[meant] banging on the head, rocking back and forth. And he doesn't

do that. "

No parent expects to raise a handicapped child. Few, if any, are

ready for the level of commitment it will take, said

Gottsagen, who runs a West Palm Beach

advocacy organization for

disabled people.

Even with her years in social work, Gottsagen said, she wasn't

prepared for the anger she felt when teachers blanched at the sight

of her son, who has Down Syndrome, or when a classmate punched him in

the stomach on his first day at school.

" He was terrified, " she said. " He'd hide under his desk. "

Students' struggles

Florida cut $2.4 million this year from

special education programs in

Broward County

for children with severe disorders, and the U.S.

Department of Education plans to slash an additional half million

from the county's special education budget for the 2006-2007 school

year, according to Broward education officials.

To make ends meet, the district says it will cut jobs from workers

who aren't directly involved with students. But parent advocates say

numerous teachers' aides also aren't being asked back next year.

Meanwhile, students with disabilities continue to struggle. Only

about half graduate with a standard diploma or a GED, according to

Florida Department of Education records from 2003-2004, the latest

data available.

The rest either drop out or leave school with a " special " diploma, a

relatively worthless document that won't grant them access to

community colleges and many trade and technical schools.

" I'm not sure of the worth of it for some kids, " said Rusnak,

Broward's director of special education programs.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

When it passed during the 1975-1976 school year, the federal

Education for all Handicapped Children Act was touted as an equal-

rights law that guaranteed students with disabilities the same

educational opportunities as everyone else.

But as schools focused more on high stakes tests, they made it

tougher for students who don't respond well to pencil-and-paper

exams, said Fred Weintraub, a child advocate who helped write the law.

" The problem, " Weintraub said, " is the assumption that there's

one

set of standards that everybody has to master, and that everybody has

the same ability to do that. Do we assume that a kid with mental

retardation should master algebra? "

Like many, Tyler

struggled through his first few years in special

education classes. As he got ready for the fourth grade at Sawgrass

Elementary in Sunrise,

Nathalie began to wonder whether he would ever

live on his own.

Something had to change. Nathalie pestered the school to seat him

with the regular kids. Though Sawgrass had occasionally put Tyler

with regular kids for short stints, Nathalie said school staff

resisted allowing him to be mainstreamed full-time. She got a lawyer

to help her negotiate.

Tyler might be autistic, but anyone who was smart enough to weasel

his way out of chores could learn, she figured, and learn faster if

teachers pushed him like everyone else.

He just needed a chance.

`I am listening'

" Feel my fingers. "

Tyler flashed a

wide, toothy smile at the teacher's aide in science

class while instructor Dawn Andersen lectured about human tissues.

It's September, a month into school, and Tyler already is charming

his teachers.

He has his mother's cherubic cheeks and prefers hugs over handshakes.

He also can free-draw a respectable Spiderman, a skill that sometimes

gets Tyler in

trouble.

The cubbyhole of his desk is filled with sketches. Andersen's

classroom aide, Mark Schnobrick, snatched a new one out of his hand

during her lecture, whispering in Tyler's

ear.

" I am listening, " Tyler

said.

The classroom is one of the few places where Tyler's disability truly

shows. He speaks with a stutter when put on the spot, and his

attention swirls around the room when Mark isn't at his side.

A generation ago, Tyler

might have been kept out of school or

sequestered from regular classes.

But the federal law now requires schools to include students like him

with everyone else. Each student is assigned an education team that

includes teachers and parents. Together, they write a plan that maps

out student needs in the classroom.

The plan might call for additional teaching staff or computer

equipment to help the student learn. Teachers will even alter the

class work to make it easier for a student with a disability.

`A juggling act'

But even after 30 years, some teachers are reluctant to integrate

their classrooms with slow learners, said JoAnn Kimball, an English

teacher at Coconut Creek High who has had students with disabilities

in her classes for most of her 36-year career.

" It's a juggling act, " Kimball said.

In addition to keeping regular students on track with increasingly

strict lesson plans, teachers now have to care for slower learners

whose abilities are years behind the rest of the class.

" The reality is that there are some needs that these children have

that just can't be met. "

Those in regular classes are often ridiculed, said Dio,

16, a junior at Coral Springs Charter who attends classes with

several students with disabilities. It can be demoralizing, Dio

said.

" They're at least trying to keep up, " he said. " They're still

students, and they have a right to learn. "

With Tyler,

Andersen has learned to pick her moments.

During a lesson on human anatomy, Andersen turned to Tyler and asked

him, " What's inside your heart? "

" The bone, " Tyler

said.

Not quite right, but Andersen let it go. She turned back to the class

to continue the lesson.

" Do we have more bones as an adult or as a baby? "

All around, kids raised their hands.

" I feel I want to go home, " Tyler

said to nobody in particular.

Despite its popularity, the practice of including disabled students

in regular classrooms has yet to produce a dramatic improvement in

their education, said Fuchs, a professor of special education

at Vanderbilt University.

" It's conservative to say that a sizable portion [of disabled

students] do not respond to general education, " Fuchs said. " Most

school systems have not found a way to meet the unique learning needs

of disabled students. "

Nevertheless, Nathalie Lelie said she wouldn't have it any other way.

A growing vocabulary

As of this month, tests at Sawgrass showed that Tyler's vocabulary

jumped from 86 words to more than 300 words, and his reading level

increased from kindergarten to second grade.

" He's learning more and more. And you know those book clubs in

school? He wants to choose War of the Worlds. " Nathalie said. " And

I'm like `OK, he never wants to read.' "

It took a lot of work to get to this point.

Nathalie said she had to convince school staff that Tyler was capable

of functioning full time in a regular classroom.

When they didn't listen, Nathalie told the school she planned to get

a lawyer through the Legal Aid Service of Broward County and pursue

through the state Division of Administrative Hearings Tyler's right

to be included. It's a quasi-legal recourse that parents in Palm

Beach and Broward counties use to get what they think

their children

need.

Sawgrass Principal Radkowski said he doesn't think the school

blocked Tyler's

request to be with regular students. It takes time

for schools to decide where a student like Tyler belongs, Radkowski

said.

" It isn't a haggling process, " he said. " There's a whole

committee,

including the teacher, the [special education] specialist,

psychologist and other people who look at all of his needs. "

In either case, the school agreed before Nathalie took action.

Tyler's

academic future

Tyler has a lot

of work ahead of him before he's done with school.

He's still well behind his peers in reading and math. But this year's

report cards have a lot more Bs and Cs than Ds and Fs, Nathalie said.

He also earned a 3.0 this year on the writing portion of the FCAT,

just below what the state considers " proficient. "

By the end of the school year, the cartoon sketches were mostly gone

from Tyler's

desk. Andersen was getting through to him. Tyler was

participating.

That's all the proof Nathalie needs that she was right about her son.

In his first shot among the regular kids, his first step at building

a normal, independent life, Tyler

has shown he can thrive.

" Now they can't say he doesn't belong, " Nathalie said.

Kahn can be reached at 954-356-4550 or cmkahnsun-sentinel