He began fifth grade with his fingernails intact and his parents well liked by every teacher he had ever had. Neither the nails nor his parents' good standing would make it to Thanksgiving.
There is an activity that is familiar to many parents of kids with disabilities. A strange treasure hunt, one father called it, in which the searching continues until just the right diagnostic label has been discovered, the label that increases the likelihood of additional special services. If the journey ends successfully, then those special services are written into the child's IEP and they become, legally, required.
But good teachers do not need to be guided by requirements. That is why they are called good teachers. They understand that no two children learn alike.
Good teachers adapt lessons to match individual learning styles and, as much as possible, to ensure successful outcomes. In the eyes of good teachers, every child learns and every child succeeds.
Good teachers add inches to every child's self-esteem.
This fifth grader had no diagnostic label and, therefore, no IEP. What he had instead was a history of good teachers and a tutor hired by his parents. And as his struggles with learning, especially reading, spelling, and writing, became more apparent with each new grade, each new teacher made the accommodations necessary for him to perform at his grade level.
No legally formalized requirements. Just good teaching.
And then came fifth grade.
Accommodating stopped. No child would be singled out for special treatment, the new teacher declared. And, further, no piece of paper required her to do so.
The parents spoke with her and got nowhere. To fully appreciate what nowhere means, consider the teacher's explanation: "Your child is performing at his grade level and therefore requires no special treatment."
Well of course he is performing at his grade level. But only because of the special treatment and tutoring he had been receiving. Take some of that away and guess what happens: more struggling, less succeeding, and blown self-confidence.
You know what else happens? Mom and Dad become warriors. Unless they want to stand by while he flails his way to failure, they have no choice but to battle.
Once well liked and respected, suddenly Mom and Dad are the enemy. It is a transformation that too many parents have had to undergo. It is also a very well-kept secret, a quiet byproduct of bad teaching: good parents, according to the school, can go bad.
The fingernails
And the fingernails. How did they, too, suddenly go bad?
One morning, the teacher made a surprise announcement. All of her students, no exceptions, she said, were going to be entered in the upcoming schoolwide spelling bee.
"So practice up everyone. There is not much time."
By the next morning, the fifth grader's nails were gone.
Gone bad. Just like his parents.
For readers thinking about the systems behind stories like this, the ADA homepage offers broader disability rights context, and our stopping the fight with disability article explores a related question about what happens when people are forced to battle systems instead of being supported by them.