THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, September 17, 1995 TAG: 9509160278
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A13 EDITION: FINAL
SERIES: SPECIAL EDUCATION
The challenge
SOURCE: BY JON GLASS, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NORFOLK LENGTH: Medium: 92 lines
When her son, Eric, started kindergarten in 1982, Karen Martin sought what any mother might: She wanted him to learn to read and to be able to write letters to his grandparents.
After Eric graduated in June from Granby High, Karen and her husband, the Rev. Keith Martin, agreed that the city's school system had done its job. But along the way, Karen Martin said, she often felt overwhelmed by a system that seemed designed to keep parents in the dark.
Eric, 18, has Down syndrome. During the 1994-95 year, he was among approximately 4,300 children enrolled in special education classes in Norfolk, about 12 percent of the city's student population. Considered a high-functioning Down's child, Eric was among 419 kids systemwide placed in educable mentally retarded, or EMR, classes.
Eric's mom described her son's teachers as ``wonderful, loving and caring.'' Even so, she would not want to repeat her experience with the schools' special ed system.
``There were many times that if I had had another option I would have taken him out,'' she said. ``It's not a warm, friendly process for parents. It's this terminology, it's this ton of paperwork, it's guided by laws and rules and regulations. You're always up against the . . . `professionals.' I'm finished with the system, but there are still things about the process that are mysteries to me.''
Only once did Martin have a serious difference with school officials, but it was traumatic.
When she enrolled Eric at Oceanair Elementary, his zoned school, the principal gave her three placement choices: a regular kindergarten class, a communicative disorder class or an EMR class.
Eric's intelligence level was within the upper range for EMR, so the Martins chose the communicative disorder class, which they hoped would help him learn to speak more clearly and learn other language skills.
When Eric's teacher was transferred to Young Park Elementary at the end of the year, Martin, who said she was ``crazy about'' the teacher, got approval to transfer Eric into her class at Young Park.
After school began, Martin drove him to Young Park herself, a 20-minute drive, rather than put him on a school bus for a 45-minute ride.
Around Thanksgiving, however, she learned that special ed supervisors wanted to transfer Eric to an EMR class at Oceanair, concluding he would be better served in that setting.
Martin wasn't convinced, and she wondered whether it was a matter of administrative convenience: a seat in an EMR class at Oceanair had opened up, and that ``probably was the moving force,'' Martin feared.
Things happened fast after she was notified, and she didn't have much time to think about the idea.
``I went along with that tearfully,'' Martin said. ``I was overwhelmed. We were surrounded by a table of experts - an educational diagnostician, a school psychologist, a supervisor for the teacher, a social worker. The teacher cried with me; she knew that the decision was in the making. I probably would have been ready at the end of the year, but at that point, I wasn't.''
Years later, she acknowledged that moving him to the EMR class probably was the right choice. But she felt the decision had been made without her, and she said there's ``a lot more room'' for parental involvement.
It sometimes seemed as if parents were included just to meet the letter of special ed laws, Martin said.
The federal Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, the primary law regulating special ed, spells out how school districts must involve parents.
The act requires that every child in special education have an ``individualized education plan,'' which is supposed to outline learning goals for each year of school. But the plans often are so filled with educational jargon that parents don't know whether the goals are being met, Martin said. And there are ``1,400 forms to fill out and that you have to read.''
``I just don't have a trust level beyond the teacher,'' she said.
For his part, Eric said he was ``real happy'' with his years at Granby. ``It taught me a lot of things,'' he said.
The worst part, he said, was when students teased him, calling him ``retarded'' or ``stupid.''
``It does hurt in my heart when it happens,'' Eric said. ``I don't want to be teased. I feel real happy about being special.''
Eric now is attending a one-year adult career training program that he hopes will qualify him to become a nurse's aide. He volunteers about 20 hours a week at DePaul Medical Center, where he helps in the cafeteria and does office chores.
``I like to work,'' he said, ``and I like to do something with my time.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo
STEVE EARLEY/Staff
Karen Martin says the teachers for her son, Eric, were ``wonderful,
loving and caring,'' and Norfolk schools fulfilled their duty to
teach him, but dealing with the system was overwhelming.
by CNB