The program would be managed by an outside provider, Catapult Learning, but housed inside public school buildings and overseen directly by the district.Īdvocates railed against the plan. Originally the plan was to create a 600-student program primarily for emotionally disturbed students. Wordsworth later filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy and was absorbed by a nonprofit conglomerate called PHMC.Īmid the turmoil, district officials proposed ending the relationship with Wordsworth and opening a new school. A subsequent investigation by uncovered years of abuse and maltreatment at the same facility, which is located in Philadelphia. In October, a 17-year-old student at one of Wordsworth’s other alternative schools died after scuffling with a staffer. Her peace of mind evaporated when the district decided to end its contract with Wordsworth, though the district’s decision had merit. We feel peace of mind with him at Wordsworth,” Castelli said. “Me and his dad, James’ dad, we feel comfortable. She’s absolutely sure her son needs the support provided by a school like Wordsworth. James struggles to speak and he’s prone to outbursts. It’s the only school Castelli trusts to educate her only son, who suffers from autism and a chromosomal disorder called microdeletion. James has been at Wordsworth since he was five. “This put me out of control,” said Castelli, an immigrant from the Dominican Republic who lives in lower Northeast Philadelphia. When Francisca Castelli first heard earlier this month that her nine-year-old son James may have to leave Wordsworth Academy day school in Fort Washington, Pennsylvania, she went into shock. But in this case, those who’ve been segregated are the ones trying to keep it that way. What follows is a story about precisely that: integration and segregation. “But there’s just certain students with behaviors that need to be segregated.” “It sounds good on paper to put them in a less restrictive environment,” said Kimberly Black, who son, Quentin, has attended Wordsworth the past three years. Why would they abandon something that works? Just because a batch of experts prefer it? Many say their children only began to flourish when they were separated from general education students and surrounded exclusively by teachers trained to handle their precise needs. The mere proposition of sending their kids to a public school enrages parents like Colter. “Inclusion is fine, but it’s not for everybody,” said Deborah Colter, whose 16-year-old daughter Aniyah has been at Wordsworth since eighth grade. This logic, however, worries many of the families it’s designed to help. “Setting up these programs in buildings with general education student population with maximum opportunity for inclusion should not be aspirational, it should be required,” said Gabe LaBella, staff attorney at Disability Rights Pennsylvania, at a July meeting of the School Reform Commission. They argue sending kids to Wordsworth and similar facilities constitutes a form of segregation because it sequesters needy kids in sheltered schools. Special education advocates say the students should be reintegrated into public schools as thoroughly and quickly as possible. This seemingly innocuous decision set off a debate over how to educate kids like Kayla, a debate that drives at broader issues than the fate of 100 children. Within the last month, about 100 of these students became educational orphans when the district opted to end a contract with Wordsworth, one of the specialized or “approved” private schools serving Philadelphia children. These children are some of the city’s most vulnerable, their schooling histories dotted with failed interventions and wasted years. The School District of Philadelphia spends about $76 million annually to pay for roughly 1,500 special education students to attend private schools geared toward their specific needs. Katherine Artuso and her daughter, Kayla Hinton. So far, her family says, none of the district’s remedies has worked.Īrtuso wants Kayla to attend a special private school for students with emotional disabilities “because of the simple fact the school district has let me down multiple of times already.” Many emotional support students, like Kayla, live with a toxic brew of life trauma and mental instability. Each was supposed to be a better fit for students like her - students who need what’s known as emotional support. Since moving to Philadelphia in 2013, Kayla went to three different public schools. “People would look at me some type of way, like I was a creature or something,” Kayla said. Sometimes she’d lash out and leave the room altogether. When she was younger she would spring out of her seat spontaneously and walk around class. In school she struggles to focus and follow directions. She suffers from attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and disruptive mood dysregulation disorder. WHYY thanks our sponsors - become a WHYY sponsor
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