社区黑料

Jenny Thamer had low hopes for the meeting called by the superintendent of the Boulder Valley School District to hear from families of autistic students.

From her experience, such so-called listening sessions are often pro forma events, staged more to assuage parents than to actually brainstorm change. 

This one had been called hastily, after a handful of caregivers had complained about persistent problems in their children’s classrooms. 

The meeting was scheduled for the day after Memorial Day, after the end of the Colorado district’s 2022-23 school year. Many families would likely have already left town for summer vacation. 

Worried no one would show up, Thamer and a couple other parents put together an anonymous online survey they could present if attendance was low. 

They need not have feared. Some 50 district parents came, cautiously optimistic that Superintendent Rob Anderson would hear their pain. 

鈥淚 have to give him credit,鈥� says Thamer. 鈥淗e listened to every single caregiver story without interrupting, without rushing people. Like, he was there for it.鈥�

The meeting was scheduled to last an hour, but went on for more than four, as families described repeated phone calls from school staffers demanding they pick up their child midday, kids too anxious to go to school, trauma caused by punishments 鈥� and, in nearly every case, schools鈥� lack of interest in parents鈥� ideas.

As it happened, Anderson鈥檚 own child received special education services. 鈥淚 could understand not just in a way a superintendent could understand,鈥� he recalls, 鈥渂ut as a parent could.鈥� 

While people talked, administrators and the school board president took notes on poster-sized pads stuck to the walls. At the end of the meeting, the parents presented the leaders with the results of their survey, which drew 65 responses.

Anderson listened. And then he promised to create an autism advisory team made up of parents, community members and staff with a goal of using feedback from autistic people 鈥� who usually are not consulted about their own conditions 鈥� to change the district鈥檚 approaches. Thamer, whose child received special education services, was asked to co-chair the team. 

A year later, Boulder Valley implemented what is likely the nation’s first 鈥� and only 鈥� neurodiversity policy. Adopted by the school board in 2024, it commits district schools to using 鈥渟trategies to affirm a student’s identity, rather than trying to 鈥榝ix鈥� or 鈥榗ure鈥� them.鈥� The policy applies to all kids, not just autists 

It鈥檚 a work in progress 鈥� in part because the policy calls for a sea change in how Boulder schools have approached educating autistic students. Intending to provide good services, the district 鈥� like a handful of mostly affluent school systems across the country 鈥� had invested heavily in hiring practitioners of an intervention called applied behavior analysis. 

Commonly referred to as ABA, the therapy was pioneered in the 1960s by Ole Ivar Lovaas, the UCLA psychologist who created LGBTQ conversion therapy. Both use a system of rewards and punishments to condition a person to act and appear 鈥渘ormal.鈥� Lovaas’ approach was quickly recognized as a human rights violation when applied to LGBTQ people, but not to autistic kids.

Lovaas did not see autistic children as fully human, which he believed justified using electric shocks, slaps and the withholding of food, among other 鈥渁versives,鈥� to 鈥渆xtinguish鈥� atypical behaviors. In a trial now regarded as dangerously flawed, he claimed to have 鈥渞ecovered鈥� 鈥� cured 鈥� nine of 19 children by subjecting them to repeated 1-on-1 drills for up to 40 hours a week.

The Lovaas Method, as ABA was originally known, is now considered the gold-standard autism intervention. Parents are typically urged to enroll their children as quickly as possible after diagnosis, as young as 2, to give them their best shot at a 鈥渘ormal鈥� life.  

Over the last decade, as laws were enacted requiring insurance coverage of autism diagnosis and therapy, the rate at which children have been identified as autistic has tripled. To serve them, a very profitable and largely unregulated treatment industry has mushroomed, pulling in nearly $2 billion a year from Medicaid alone.     

For-profit ABA is particularly strong in Colorado, in large part because of the state鈥檚 history of offering relatively generous benefits for people with disabilities. Because of ABA’s dominance 鈥� and the accompanying perception that it is the most effective way of treating autistic children 鈥� school districts are increasingly turning to practitioners to staff their special education programs, whether or not it is the proper approach for a particular child.      

Modern practitioners defend the intervention, saying ABA no longer subjects children to physical punishment. Yet documentation of its harms is mounting, as researchers 鈥� including autistic adults who underwent ABA as youngsters 鈥� gather evidence that the therapy has caused widespread PTSD. Autistic children may no longer be subjected to electric shocks or slaps to the face 鈥� and the word “aversive” may sound kinder than “punishment” 鈥� but they are routinely denied food, toys and comfort items, as well as adult attention, a strategy practitioners industrywide call 鈥�.鈥� ABA providers still frequently restrain children or confine them in isolation 鈥� practices recognized as so dangerous and traumatic as to be illegal in most circumstances in Colorado schools.

At the listening session, Thamer presented the superintendent with the results of the survey, which echoed what he had heard from parents in person. One-fourth felt the need to shorten their child鈥檚 school day because teachers could not provide a full day鈥檚 support, and nearly half had unenrolled or considered withdrawing their children. 

One-third of respondents said they had been asked to pick their kids up early from school for behavioral reasons 鈥� some frequently. A fourth said their children had been excluded from field trips and other activities. And 13% had out-of-school suspensions and 9% in-school suspensions.

Some 16% were aware their child had been subject to physical restraint or seclusion 鈥� likely a wild undercount, given the number of parents at the in-person meeting who said their kids were restrained several times a week. Historically, Colorado did not require schools to report restraint until two years ago, and still doesn鈥檛 mandate data collection on seclusion. 

鈥淧arents carry a lot of trauma from advocating for their kids.鈥�

Jenny Thamer

More than 40% said schools focused on fixing behavior rather than uncovering the reasons for it; paid more attention to students’ 鈥渓agging neurotypical skills鈥� than to their capabilities; and used inappropriate instruction strategies. 

The families鈥� experiences were common, but the opportunity to share and be believed was novel, says Thamer. Many of the caregivers at the listening session were meeting one another for the first time. Many had assumed they were alone in rejecting guidance from the district鈥檚 supposed experts, or that no one would believe the 鈥済old standard鈥� in treatment was actually making things worse for their children. 

Just sitting in a room with so many other people sharing the same experiences was cathartic. 鈥淚 had tears hearing other people’s stories,鈥� Thamer says. 鈥淧arents carry a lot of trauma from advocating for their kids.鈥�

‘Daddy, help! Daddyyyy!’ 

One of the parents present was Sarah Piril盲. In 2019, she had come home from work to hear her 5-year-old screaming in the basement. He was working with two technicians from a local private ABA center who, in an effort to stop a meltdown, had barricaded him in a room and turned their backs on him.  

This was not a new experience for P, who is being referred to by his first initial to protect his privacy. He had been through this rewards-and-aversives cycle at home, in private childcare centers 鈥� which were quick to show the family the door 鈥� and even public school-based early childhood education. As he got bigger, so did his meltdowns.          

But on this day, Piril盲 says, she heard something very different in P鈥檚 screams. 

鈥淒addy, help,鈥� he shrieked. 鈥淒addyyyy!鈥� 

She bolted down the stairs and instantly recognized that her son wasn鈥檛 being stubborn. He was terrified.

A series of realizations crystalized in an instant, she recalls. P was being punished, over and over, for not understanding what was expected of him.

In the process, he had learned to fear interactions where he could become overwhelmed and lose control. And his parents, whom he needed to keep him safe, had invited the people meting out the punishment into his life.

In schools, isolating or confining children is known as seclusion and restraint. The psychological and physical harms are . Most states have laws limiting the practices to rare episodes in which students pose an immediate threat to themselves or others.  

Yet P鈥檚 therapists were using the tactic on purpose, in the belief that after enough repetitions 鈥� delivered under the guise of benign therapy 鈥� it would 鈥渆xtinguish鈥� some of the boy鈥檚 autistic traits.

On the surface, the goal seems perfectly rational: Grownups were trying to teach P that following instructions brings rewards. But when he didn鈥檛 comply, they鈥檇 double down, sensing defiance. The stricter the adult, the more dysregulated the child鈥檚 response. 

Piril盲 knew ABA practitioners often describe the moment she was witnessing as an 鈥渆xtinguishment burst鈥� 鈥� a last willful attempt by children to get their way by ratcheting up negative behavior. If she went to P鈥檚 aid, in the therapists鈥� eyes, she would be guilty of setting back their hard work.   

She faced a horrible dilemma: follow the therapists’ advice and let the moment play out, or listen to her gut and defy experts who could document her poor judgment in a file with P鈥檚 name on it.  

In the moment, she chose her son, scooping him up and letting him cry.

She had no way of knowing how hard it would be, even after telling the boy鈥檚 private therapists she would no longer tolerate ABA鈥檚 strategies, to keep P out of the therapy. 

Over the next seven years, the district would move him to five schools, not counting distance learning during COVID and a year when P was so traumatized that Piril盲 homeschooled him. In all but one of the schools, he was subjected to ABA.

But she had an unlikely ally. The behavior technician who had stood nose-to-nose with Piril盲 in her basement is a man named Blake Ross. And that confrontation marked a watershed moment for him, too.

The core epiphany Piril盲 had during the episode was that P鈥檚 meltdown had been perceived by the adults as a choice, when in fact it was an involuntary stress response 鈥� the fight-or-flight instinct that鈥檚 a normal part of the human nervous system. Everyone has it, but it鈥檚 especially easy to trigger in a child with an acutely sensitive neurotype. 

Ross adored P. He was devastated to realize the boy was scared of him. 鈥淭here are protocols for stuff like this,鈥� he recalls. 鈥淲e were following them, and it was making things worse.鈥�

In the ensuing weeks, Ross and Piril盲 came to an understanding. The family couldn鈥檛 meet the boy鈥檚 needs alone, and Ross was committed to finding a better way to help. Together, they started trying to understand how entrenched P鈥檚 fight-or-flight responses were, and what would happen if they developed strategies to help his nervous system avoid that traumatic response. 

Things really clicked during third grade when, with help from Ross, Piril盲 started homeschooling P mid-year. With their strategies finally working, the following year Piril盲 searched for a classroom where the adults would try what she called 鈥渘euro-informed accommodations.鈥�   

In the meantime, seeking the flexibility to use their new approach with other kids, Ross and his wife, Jenn Snow, also an ABA provider, had started their own autism therapy practice. They met with Piril盲 and the members of P鈥檚 prospective school special educators to talk about their work.  

鈥淟uckily, we found a team that would actually try it,鈥� says Snow. 鈥淎nd to magnificent effect.鈥�

A data-minded mom literally charts a new course

Before she quit her job to manage P鈥檚 needs, Piril盲 was an engineer and data strategist. Both ABA and special education are supposed to be data-driven. The theory behind ABA 鈥� the analysis being applied, as it were 鈥� is that therapists record a child鈥檚 responses to behavioral drills, routines and tasks, and then use the information to refine their tactics.

An individualized education program, the legal document that spells out how special education will meet a child’s needs, is also supposed to contain quantifiable goals and measures of progress, as well as information on behavior, adult time spent delivering services and the amount of time the student spends in a segregated classroom rather than integrated with typically developing peers. 

All special education parents quickly accumulate boxes of IEP-related documents, but Piril盲 had more: reports P鈥檚 schools sent home when he was physically restrained or isolated, forms announcing he had been suspended and messages asking her to come pick him up early. 

Because P, like many autistic kids, often refused to go to school, Piril盲 tracked his attendance. She also recorded how often he met the school鈥檚 behavior goals, his reading and writing achievement, how much time he spent in different classrooms and how many special ed services he received. 

In January 2025, after P had been enrolled in a new district school willing to work with her ideas, Piril盲 put 340 pages of IEPs and other documents 鈥� 4,000 data points collected over eight years 鈥� into a database. The results were striking.

When P was being treated with ABA, he achieved the school鈥檚 behavioral goals 25% to 50% of the time. When he was in a classroom where the adults were willing to try Piril盲鈥檚 neuro-informed strategies, his success rate was 75% to 100%.

When he was allowed to spend fewer hours and days in the school environment, his attendance actually stabilized 鈥� and his reading and writing scores shot up. As P鈥檚 fight-or-flight episodes subsided, he grew more willing to work on his least-favored tasks. As adults listened to him when he advocated for himself, he spoke more frequently.  

Piril盲 created a presentation for P鈥檚 teachers and aides, with two dozen charts showing how his IEP and ABA interventions fluctuated in effectiveness. There was a one-year window 鈥� labeled 鈥渁utistic burnout鈥� 鈥� when P was restrained 20 times, sent home another 20 times and suspended three times. 

But there were also slides listing which specific, neuro-informed strategies were in place when things were going really well: 鈥淧hysical management is to be avoided entirely鈥�; 鈥淧roactive is better than reactive鈥�; 鈥淧鈥檚 words must work or he will stop using them鈥�; 鈥淔lexibility from you = flexibility from P.鈥�

At the start of the last school year, the boy鈥檚 teachers stopped pushing ABA, Piril盲 says. But when she gave them a draft IEP written from a nervous system response lens, the educators in charge of the planning process rejected it.

Everybody on the IEP team agreed with the support plan, she says. But one team member, an ABA practitioner employed by the district, said they needed to rework it to conform with ABA鈥檚 structure. 

In Boulder Valley classrooms, what that has historically meant is that when a student exhibits a problematic behavior, educators must create a hypothesis for why it鈥檚 occurring. These hypotheses assume the child is choosing to misbehave, e.g., to get attention or to avoid an activity they don鈥檛 like. Then the therapists and teachers create goals that outline the steps of an ABA strategy for addressing the student’s actions.

鈥淭he [lead therapist] said the way I wrote it from a nervous system response perspective was much more helpful,鈥� says Piril盲. 鈥淏ut then [she] also said that she can鈥檛 use that structure, that she wasn鈥檛 able to structure an alternative path for families like mine that specifically request non-ABA approaches.鈥�  

The format of a support plan may seem like a small thing to someone who has not struggled to get their child an atypical IEP, Piril盲 says. But to her, it suggests the adults in the district are not ready to step away from something that鈥檚 not working.  

A shaky substitute for real special ed       

In 2022, the Colorado General Assembly took up a bill to allow families to request an ABA therapist of their choosing be allowed to accompany their child to school. Legislators ended up passing a dramatically amended law requiring districts to have a policy addressing the question. 

The debate, however, revealed that much of the time, schools and families were using private ABA therapy to make up for gaps in special education, childcare and disability services writ large 鈥� something also highlighted in federal audits of Medicaid spending in Colorado and several other states.   

Many of the therapists and industry representatives testified that their clients didn鈥檛 have time for both ABA and school, attended schools that had declared students鈥� needs too profound to manage or said that because they were understaffed, they could support autistic students for only a few hours a day. 

The parents who urged passage of the bill said they needed ABA to close a caregiving gap. Several said schools and preschools were quick to demand they pick their kids up midday 鈥� sometimes threatening to call the police if they didn鈥檛.

鈥淪chools are happy to abbreviate their day and make this someone else鈥檚 problem,鈥� said one. 鈥淎nd I just don鈥檛 think that鈥檚 right.鈥� 

Other parents said their kids were behind academically because they split their time between a therapy center and school. 

A lack of school staff with autism expertise and of out-of-school caregiving options for families are real problems, says Julie Reiskin, co-executive director of the Colorado Cross-Disability Coalition. But behavioral therapy is not intended to address those problems. 

鈥淲e need to have childcare and schools that are not calling parents, that can keep their kid through the whole day,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut if that’s the need, then that’s what we should be funding, not one specific kind of therapy. 

鈥淲e could do it for a lot less money than this,鈥� adds Reiskin. 鈥淎nd maybe the kids will also be having more fun.鈥� 

Lindsey Trott told lawmakers there are more effective methods for helping students than ABA, but that schools lack the resources to use them. She鈥檚 now an occupational therapist, but as a teenager in the late 1990s, she was hired by a family that was implementing the Lovaas Method in their home with their nonverbal 4-year-old.

For 10 months, three days a week after school, Trott said in an interview with 社区黑料, she would sit with the boy and perform what are known in ABA as 鈥渄iscrete trials鈥� 鈥� repetitive drills of tasks like making eye contact or copying a structure made of blocks. She rewarded his compliance with a fruit snack or a cartoon break.

鈥淎fter a couple of months of working with me, when I would show up at the door, he would cry and run away,鈥� says Trott. 鈥淗e made no progress.鈥� 

In hindsight, what she thinks the family really needed was respite care. 鈥淎t the end, I felt more like I was there supporting the mom,鈥�  she recalls. 鈥淚 would stay and she would tell me things. She was sad and frustrated.鈥�        

That experience was a catalyst. In search of solutions, Trott went on to earn a master’s degree in special education and then two degrees in occupational therapy. When she was training, she shadowed a veteran OT, as the specialists are typically referred to in schools. 

They drove to several small gyms, where the experienced OT stood alongside kids doing simple gymnastics, talking to them about what they were doing. 

鈥淔or the first time, I saw nonverbal kids having fun,鈥� says Trott. 鈥淎nd I felt something about what I was seeing.鈥� 

鈥淎fter a couple of months of working with me, when I would show up at the door, he would cry and run away,鈥� says Trott. 鈥淗e made no progress.鈥�

Lindsey Trott

All people regulate their emotions or nervous systems by what鈥檚 known as 鈥渟timming鈥� 鈥� making repetitive motions or noises. In contrast to things neurotypical people do unconsciously, like twisting a strand of hair, autistic peoples鈥� stims can be dramatic, such as pacing or rocking. Schools and therapists often attempt to stop stims.  

Occupational therapy鈥檚 descriptions of this are much closer to Piril盲鈥檚 ideas about the nervous system than to ABA鈥檚 concepts. Proprioceptive input 鈥� what OT refers to as 鈥渉eavy work,鈥� like jumping or other activities that engage muscles 鈥�  calms nerves and enables self-regulation. Vestibular input 鈥� sensory information the brain receives from the inner ear when a person swings or spins, among other motions 鈥� facilitates balance and movement.

If schools taught children about their nervous systems, lots of students鈥� needs would be met, not just the autistic kids鈥�, Trott believes: 鈥淚f we had a special ed teacher for every grade level and we had an OT for every campus, schools could look very different.鈥�

A 74 analysis of Medicaid billing claims revealed that spending on ABA just for children with this public, safety net healthcare now totals $2 billion a year. If that money were added to schools鈥� annual budgets, every district in the country could add one full time and one half-time occupational therapist. 

Neurodiversity training goes only so far

One of the first things Boulder Valley leaders did with the input from its Autism Advisory Team was to put together mandatory neurodiversity training for every staff member in the district. 

In a departure from typical practice, a training video was created using input from community members, says Michelle Brenner, director of special education for the district. Two of the four presenters in the video are autistic. Trainers emphasize that understanding what it means to be neurodiversity-affirming is good for everyone. 

The with a discussion of fight-or-flight and other autistic behaviors, which appear when a student feels physically unsafe or 鈥� something that is much harder for a neurotypical person to anticipate 鈥� socially unsafe.

鈥淲hen a student engages in those behaviors, often they are trying to tell us, 鈥業 feel unsafe all the time,鈥� 鈥� explains a speech-language pathologist. 鈥淭hat is the autistic experience.鈥� 

Then, an autistic high school teacher, Wren Roberts, describes what it is like to go through life in a state of hyperarousal. Indeed, she confesses that she feels unsafe talking on camera. 

鈥淚 have spent my entire life learning to hide it,鈥� she explains. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 called masking.鈥� 

Just as existing with a continually activated nervous system causes mental health issues, she notes that autistic people who mask experience high rates of depression, anxiety, insomnia and suicidal ideation.  

Up next in the video, an autistic man who volunteers in a district afterschool program outlines how a neurotypical person can figure out whether a student is feeling unsafe, and why. Finally, a high school teacher reminds the audience that while this cycle is often pronounced for autists, 鈥淥ther students are likely feeling the same way.鈥� 

As progressive as this seems compared with most other districts鈥� approaches, the mandatory training was relatively simple, says Shannon Gamble, Boulder Valley鈥檚 director of multi-tiered systems of support. Her specialty is differing strategies that are used to help students struggling with literacy or other skills.  

District leaders have created an internal data dashboard tracking how often students are restrained, how many are restrained repeatedly, whether teachers and therapists have looked for the 鈥渞oot causes鈥� of repeated problems and other indications that changes are being implemented and whether they are working. 

The training is a start, Gamble says. 鈥淎 big part of what needs to shift is mindset and understanding, and the way that we view each other and our students.鈥� 

Some families want their children to continue to receive ABA in school. But to others, who continue to push against it, the pace of change can feel glacial, they say.

鈥淥ur families come in and they’re like, ‘All right, why don’t you just go tell people to do this thing?’ ” says Gamble. “There’s things we can do right away. We can change [the language on] a form, right?鈥�  

Altering mindsets is a longer-term proposition, she continues: 鈥淚t’s going to take more than us just telling people what to do 鈥� especially things like neurodiversity, where many of our educators were taught in a way that maybe is not what our neurodiversity philosophy is telling them we believe.鈥�

Because district leaders had invested in what they thought was the best intervention for students, a number of the people leading its special education efforts hold some of ABA鈥檚 highest credentials. The persistence of their beliefs is visible in district materials.  

For example, families point to an educator training created more than a year after adoption of the neurodiversity policy that makes numerous rewards-and-consequences recommendations even as it acknowledges trauma鈥檚 role in children鈥檚 behavior. Forms distributed to classroom aides have grids for charting ABA interventions.    

A outlining the neurodiversity policy and resources also links to that outlines Boulder Valley’s ABA strategies: 鈥淭he behavior analyst is responsible for the implementation of skill acquisition and behavior support strategies aligned with current best practices from the field of applied behavior analysis (ABA) as well as responsibilities and duties within the school special education collaborative team.鈥�

Restraint and seclusion

In 2022, the U.S. Department of Education to avoid restraining and isolating students with disabilities unless a child鈥檚 behavior poses 鈥渋mminent danger of serious physical harm to themselves or others.鈥� Not only are the practices dangerous and abusive, it said, but there is no evidence they help modify disability-related behaviors. 

They are also discriminatory, the agency warned. Students with disabilities are three times more likely to be physically restrained or confined than their non-disabled classmates. Often, they face discipline because they lack proper services. 

In practice, however, it is devilishly difficult to get schools to move away from restraint and seclusion. Over the last couple of years, in several states that of even just preschoolers and early elementary age children, education administrators have lobbied statehouses to repeal the bans.  

Disability advocates push back, saying schools need to do more to support educators who are left without effective alternatives. As a result, when seclusion is prohibited, schools often simply rebrand the spaces where children are confined as time-out rooms. 

How does Boulder Valley stack up? 

Brenner and Gamble say the district鈥檚 internal data shows small improvements since the adoption of the neurodiversity policy, including a 鈥渟light reduction鈥� in the number of autistic students who are repeatedly restrained and secluded and a dramatic drop in the number subjected to formal threat evaluations under Colorado鈥檚 school safety protocol.

But in terms of collecting data on restraint, Colorado鈥檚 history is tangled. The state鈥檚 first restrictions on when a child could be physically controlled were intended to address solitary confinement and punishment in juvenile detention centers. 

The practices were supposed to be rare in schools, but the state didn鈥檛 collect any data that would allow it to measure compliance. In 2022, the Colorado General Assembly passed a law requiring districts to begin reporting by the end of the 2024 school year. 

It did not, however, address seclusion as a specific form of restraint 鈥� which all but a handful of districts interpreted as a mandate to report only episodes when a child was physically or mechanically controlled. Legislators rejected a 2025 attempt to clarify the law.

For the 2024-25 academic year, Boulder Valley reported no instances of either restraint or seclusion to the state. It did, however, of 鈥渄etrimental behavior鈥� 鈥� conduct that has a negative impact on the welfare or safety of other students or staff 鈥� among children with disabilities. Students with IEPs make up 15% of the district鈥檚 student body, but comprise one-third of those disciplined. 

While ABA practitioners鈥� stances vary, they often don鈥檛 think they are restraining a child but rather 鈥� much as took place in Piril盲鈥檚 basement 鈥� believe they are engaging in a therapeutic strategy that is to the child鈥檚 benefit.   

In 2010, the Association for Behavior Analysis International opposing 鈥渋nappropriate鈥� restraint and seclusion but supporting the interventions when used by practitioners as part of a formal plan: 鈥淲hen used in the context of a behavior intervention plan, restraint in some cases serves both a protective and a therapeutic function. These procedures can reduce risks of injury and can facilitate learning opportunities that support appropriate behavior.鈥�

In May 2025, 社区黑料 reported that the Arizona Autism Charter Schools 鈥� a network of ABA schools whose founder was chosen by President Donald Trump to oversee special education 鈥� restrained and secluded students at unusually high rates even though state law restricted the practice to emergencies.    

Often, when autistic children are sent to 鈥渂lue zones鈥� or 鈥渃ool-down corners,鈥� schools fail to see and report it as seclusion. The distinction that鈥檚 lost: a space students can retreat to of their own volition when overwhelmed 鈥� and leave when calmer 鈥� is different from seclusion.

The fact that the district has adopted a neurodiversity policy but also proclaims ABA will remain in place infuriates Piril盲. If you ask her, there鈥檚 no reason state and local officials can鈥檛 do their own version of her analysis of which strategies contributed to P鈥檚 dysregulation and which enabled him to stay calm and engaged. They鈥檙e just choosing not to.  

鈥淢y child may communicate differently, but that doesn鈥檛 mean he doesn鈥檛 want to be involved.鈥�

Parent of autistic child

‘The most important message’

One of the first things Jenny Thamer did as co-chair of the Autism Advisory Team 鈥� a role she played for two years before moving on 鈥� was to send out a second survey, consisting of a single, open-ended question: 鈥淧lease tell us the most important message(s) you or your child want educators to know.鈥�

The replies were consistent: 

鈥淚t is our job as adults to figure out why [kids] are not doing well. Children should never be left to figure it out on their own.鈥�

鈥淢y child does not need to make eye contact to be listening. He is not avoiding instruction by not making eye contact.鈥�

鈥淢y child may look fine on the outside to you, but inside they are almost paralyzed with anxiety.鈥� 

鈥淢y child may communicate differently, but that doesn鈥檛 mean he doesn鈥檛 want to be involved.鈥�

Anderson, the superintendent, says he鈥檚 committed to fully implementing the district’s neurodiversity policy. True recognition of the array of ways in which people experience Boulder Valley鈥檚 schools will benefit every student and educator, he says, autistic or not.   

鈥淭he idea that we understand the challenge and the needs of a neurodiverse community, and that we are locking arms to meet those needs, that鈥檚 good for all kids,鈥� he says.    

鈥淭his is really hard work. I鈥檓 not here to tell you we鈥檝e solved the problems. But these things aren鈥檛 hidden anymore. They鈥檙e not whispered.鈥�

This investigation was produced with support from the Education Writers Association Reporting Fellowship program.

Did you use this article in your work?

We鈥檇 love to hear how 社区黑料鈥檚 reporting is helping educators, researchers, and policymakers.