Every child deserves to be treated with dignity and deserves to be safe regardless of their race, socio-economic status, or cognitive/physical abilities. All children need love and kindness to thrive in the world. Abraham Maslow created the following hierarchy of needs in his 1943 paper “A Theory of Human Motivation.”

In order to move up the pyramid toward self-actualization, where an individual can meet their fullest potential, all of the prior needs must be met. 

My son (who I will refer to as E) was denied his basic need for safety by his elementary school. As a result, he was unable to climb the pyramid toward healthy relationships and connections with others, self-esteem, a positive self-image, and ultimately reaching self-actualization and becoming all that he could be.

His school was an unsafe environment because it had a harmful practice of excessively secluding children with disabilities. 

E’s seclusions began in kindergarten but reached unfathomable levels during his fifth-grade year when he was secluded at least 46 times for over 50 hours in just 66 school days. These numbers are likely much higher as the evidence shows they did not record his seclusions accurately, often not reporting them at all.

Let me describe this room (that the school referred to as the “calming room”). It was 6 feet by 6 feet in size with completely concrete or cinder block walls, hard floors, no doorknob on the inside, and only a slit of a window in the door, which the staff often covered with paper so E could not see out. It often had no furniture, but at times, it had a student chair and sometimes a small desk.

The room was referred to as a “calming room,” yet there was usually the opposite effect when students were confined there. In fact, the following are descriptions of E (while in this room) that the school documented on their seclusion reports:

“Began to hyperventilate, hitting himself, repeating ‘let me out.”

“Yelling, hitting himself, kicking at the door and walls.”

“Banging head on wall, hitting head with hands, hyperventilating, yelling, fetal position, constant movement.”

“Banging head on wall, hitting head with his hands, hyperventilating, yelling, fetal position, constant movement, yelling.”

“Screaming, hyperventilating, kicking the door.”

“Throwing his body at the door.” 

“Screaming that the staff was torturing him and that he wanted to go home.”

“Hitting and kicking doors and walls, biting self on the hand, screaming.”

“Climbing the walls of the calming room, biting self.”

“Cried, kicked walls.” 

“Refusal to use a coping skill, kicking and hitting the calming room door, screaming, crying”

“Hitting himself in the head with his hand, crying, screaming, hitting the walls.”

“Screaming, yelling, hitting himself, kicking the walls.”

“Trying to make himself vomit.”

“Throwing items in calming room, hitting, kicking, screaming, shouting unkind words to others, ripping up papers and eating them.”

“Once in the calming room, he began to bite himself and scream and cry.”

“Screaming, yelling, kicking the door, removing screws from the door with a spork.”

Do the above descriptions sound like a child who feels safe? Does it seem like this intervention of confinement was working? There was not a single incident in which E was secluded, and he calmed down. He often screamed and cried in an obvious neurological state of ‘fight or flight’ until, in exhaustion, he fell asleep.

You may ask, “What kind of a monster is this child?” I know I am biased as his mother, yet I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that he has never harmed another person.

He has never been a threat to anyone’s safety. He was not a monster or anything close. He was a child with autism who was put in an environment that often escalated behaviors as they tried to force compliance. His needs related to over-stimulation were discounted as they identified E as a child with an emotional disability (ED) and, as a result, placed him in an ED classroom. They discounted his diagnoses of autism, sensory processing disorder, epilepsy, slow processing speed, auditory processing disorder, and ADHD. The ED classroom was loud, chaotic, and unstructured. Furthermore, he was taken away from his peers in the general education setting where he preferred to be. 

Yes, E could be a handful. He was constantly moving and fidgeting and often refused to do his work. Yet the underlying cause for these behaviors was ignored, and a less disruptive replacement behavior was never offered. Instead, staff used punitive approaches, and E was constantly removed from class. When E would make noises, fidget with pencils, tap his desk, etc., staff would tell him to “stop or be removed from class.” There was never any other alternative, such as offering him a quieter fidget or allowing him to walk around the back of the classroom. E would engage in the behavior they claimed to be disruptive, and they would remove him from class, triggering the chain of reactions that led to the seclusion room. He would be upset that he was removed from class, knowing he was likely going to be forced into the “calming room.” He then would have a meltdown, crying and throwing paper, breaking pencils, and saying “unkind things” to staff.

Why did they not address the reasons behind his apparent refusal to do work?

With auditory processing disorder, he struggled to take in the teacher’s instruction, and with ADHD, he struggled to retain it for very long. With his slow processing speed, he struggled to get started with work, and it became overwhelming to him. One of the worst experiences I think E ever had was when they locked him in the seclusion room and told him he couldn’t come out until he completed a very long standardized test. It took him over two hours.

In our state (and I believe most states), seclusion can only be used as a last resort when there is an “imminent threat to safety of self or others.” It also can never be used for punishment. If used, it can only be for a short period, and the child must be allowed out as soon as they are no longer an imminent threat of danger.

As you will see in the following descriptions for the “cause” of seclusion, these policies were never followed:

“Trying to leave the calming room while visibly escalated.”

“E was crawling around on the floor and moving around the classroom.”

“He continued to make noise at his seat, and staff escorted him to the calming room.”

 “He was using his fingers to whistle in class. Staff prompted E to stop. E continued to whistle.”

“Staff gave him the choice to be quiet at his seat or take a break in the calming room.”

The worst behavior that was ever described that led to his seclusion is the following:

“Came into the building from parent drop off and immediately began yelling at staff that he wanted to go home.” (can you blame him?) 

“Screaming, knocking over chairs, throwing beanbags, kicking the yoga ball.”  

Nowhere do I find him to be an imminent threat to the safety of others.

The only time E was a threat to himself was while in the calming room. He would bite himself and bang his head against the wall. Staff almost never intervened. Staff stated that it appeared E had an absent seizure after one of the episodes of head banging, yet they neither informed me nor the nurse. Their actions strongly displayed a complete lack of caring for his health and well-being. E was not safe in this school.

The number of times E was secluded was horrific, but even worse was the amount of time he spent in this tiny space. Many days, he spent over three hours confined, and twice, he was secluded for over six hours (essentially the entire school day).

Sometimes, he would scream and cry until he fell asleep, and they’d leave him in there on the hard floor.  

When E came home from school, he often immediately threw himself on the ground, crying and yelling how much he hated school. I felt helpless as he could not verbalize what had happened to him. I believe he didn’t tell me because he was ashamed. He thought he was a bad kid based on how the adults in his school treated him. He would sit on the floor and cry, sometimes hitting himself, not allowing me to hug him, and I could do nothing to comfort him.

There were many case conferences in which I sat there at a loss as to what was occurring in school. At home, E rarely displayed any behavior that was being described to me in these meetings. As a behavior consultant myself and having many years of experience with individuals on the spectrum, I wrote my own behavior plan for E. I was desperate as I felt no one was helping my child. 

In meetings, I shared what worked for me at home. I asked them to use more positive behavior interventions. I asked that when E shuts down (usually by putting his head down and refusing to do work), he should be left alone and given time and space. Eventually, he would come around. I asked that if he was being disruptive by loudly fidgeting, that they offer him a replacement, quieter fidget. I asked them to speak to him with a kind tone of voice as certain tones triggered him. Most importantly, I asked that they try to build a positive connection with him so that he could trust his teachers.

I felt like I wasn’t being heard.

I got a clearer picture of why E was reacting the way he was in school when I read through hundreds of pages of discovery via my lawsuit. Literally, there were over 200 pages of minute-by-minute observations one staff member wrote as he sat behind E all day, every day.  

As I read through these pages, I was unable to contain my tears. The horror and injustice inflicted upon my child was unforgivable. Was it intentional abuse? Or was it a lack of training? It had to be more than insufficient training. No human with any morals could watch a child lay crying in a fetal position on the hard floor of a room the size of a closet and think, ‘This is ok.’ Regardless, it didn’t matter. The damage was done, and the scars would never fade. 

It was evident from the notes written by school staff that the primary focus was compliance and any punitive method that served to gain that compliance. They wanted to control E and force him to be like any other kid. The staff did not connect with him in any positive way. It appeared they looked at E as lesser than the general education students as they constantly expressed concern that he might “disrupt the learning of others.” This was mentioned too many times to count. 

Reading between the lines of these staff observations, I could feel a strong dislike for E. This was one of the most painful things to witness.

Most of the people in E’s life had a great fondness for him and truly loved him. He has such a joyful, funny personality. He is an active kid, yes, but defiant? No. Violent? Absolutely not. Family and friends were stunned to hear of the experiences he was having in school as they couldn’t imagine E having behaviors that necessitated being locked in a tiny room for hours and hours. 

It took the bold action of a lawsuit to trigger change in the school district. It appears this year that the “calming rooms” are being used less and, in some cases, not at all. I will continue my fight until I am confident they are no longer in use anywhere, period.  

The change in E this year leaves me with indescribable joy and relief. He has moved on to middle school, where he has been welcomed with sincere kindness and love. His teachers have made an effort to build positive relationships with him. I feel like they listened to me when I described what works best for E. The most remarkable action they took was removing the door of the “calming room” in the special education classroom, and they intentionally did this in front of E. They sent him a clear message that he is safe in this school. 

The current teachers and staff no longer function with an overwhelming focus on compliance. The focus now is on helping E be part of the general education classroom and to be able to remain in the classroom so he can receive an education. When E’s fidgeting becomes somewhat disruptive (tapping pencils or maneuvering his Rubik Cube loudly), his teacher will offer him a quieter fidget. Teachers joke with him, ask him about his interests, and treat E like he truly matters. This is the first time in E’s life that he genuinely seems happy going to school.

Halfway through the first quarter of the current school year, we had parent-teacher conferences. My heart was racing, and my palms were sweaty as I entered the doors to the school. What reports would E’s teachers have for me this time? I was used to receiving only negative reports, so I expected this to be no different. I couldn’t believe my ears. Teacher after teacher consistently said, “He is a wonderful student.”  “He is one of my top students.” “He is a pleasure to have in class.” One teacher told me that after reading the previous school’s reports of E, he could not believe this was the same child. There was not a single mention of bad behavior by any teacher. Yes, he could be fidgety and antsy; sometimes, he didn’t seem to be paying attention, yet he was apparently taking in the material as he was getting all A’s and one B+.  

E was engaged in school for the first time. He would come home and actually tell me about things he learned. One day, he came home and asked me if I knew all the different types of governments. I gave a couple of different types, and then he excitedly named the complete list that he had learned in school that day. He would tell me about something he was making in his engineering class. He would inquire about his current grades.

He was motivated to do well, and it showed as he ended up on the honor roll.

E also joined the cross-country team this year. He was the second-fastest runner on the team (fastest in some meets) and seemed to fit right in with the other boys. Some afternoons, as I waited to pick him up from practice, I’d observe him laughing and joking around with the other kids. At the end of the season, there was a fall sports awards ceremony. The only individual award given to each team was the “Mental Attitude Award.” This award was given to E. 

E was happier than I had ever seen him. He not only had friends on the cross country team, but when I dropped him off at school some mornings, I’d watch as other kids socialized with him. Feeling included with his peers was very important to him, which was one reason he would have meltdowns when removed from or prevented from attending the general education classroom.

Another indication that E is in a healthier environment is the reduction in his motor tics. He has had them since early childhood. During the past year these tics became more extreme than ever. In the school environment, they were constant. However, today they are nearly non-existent. It is incredible the difference that I am seeing in him. It seems that as his need for safety is being met, his body can relax. He is no longer in frequent states of ‘fight or flight.’ He is even able to eat more and sleep better than he ever has in the past. This is all evidence of the trauma the excessive seclusions caused him. He was in a constant heightened neurological state, unable to relax or feel safe.

Being in a safe environment at school today, E is soaring through Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. By removing the possibility of being locked in a room, his nervous system could settle. He is now able to make connections with others. He is receiving the message that he belongs in the classroom. He is building positive relationships with teachers and friends. He is challenging himself academically and athletically, building a sense of self-worth with every new achievement. He is being recognized for the wonderful, lovable kid that he is, and he now has a real chance to reach his potential. How far will he go? I can’t wait to find out.