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11-22-10 Education in the News
Star Ledger ‘Gov. Christie faces opposition from N.J. public school advocates in superintendent salary cap measure’

Asbury Park Press Series - Baltimore hospital offers autistic children, families hope …New autism drug tested at New Brunswick hospital …For Cindy Lee Parker, special education has been a school of hard knocks.

Star Ledger ‘Gov. Christie faces opposition from N.J. public school advocates in superintendent salary cap measure’

Published: Monday, November 22, 2010, 7:43 AM     Updated: Monday, November 22, 2010, 7:43 AM

Bob Braun/Star-Ledger Columnist

TRENTON — He was the very model of a modern Morris County Republican. He wore a dark suit under a gray Chesterfield overcoat with a black velvet collar. Hair, cropped military style. When he flipped open his cell phone, its backlit screen broadcast the familiar, stylized symbol of the GOP elephant.

Yet Joseph Ricca, the young schools superintendent in East Hanover, had just told Gov. Chris Christie, a rising Republican star, to back off.

"I don’t think any level of government, whether in Washington or Trenton, has the right to dictate what someone can and cannot earn," said Ricca after testifying before a state hearing on the governor’s plan to cap the salaries of school chiefs.

"We do not need government intervention here, no more than we need government intervention to tell us what to eat or what type of health care to buy," said a man with a Harvard doctorate using tea party rhetoric.

"'The government is of the people, for the people, and there is no greater example than that of a locally elected school board with a locally elected annual education budget. The people are the employer in this instance — not the commissioner of education, the Legislature, or the governor."The hearing, where he spoke, at Kean University showed Christie is no longer just fighting with teacher unions and urban schools to cut public spending. He is dealing with an entirely different class of public school advocates — those who fiercely defend the quality of their schools as a way, among other things, of keeping up property values.

"I don’t understand why he is trying to hurt the very people who elected him," said James O’Neill, the Chatham schools superintendent, who then ticked off ways the new administration combined aid cuts with new rules, topped off by the salary caps.

Ricca and O’Neill had lots of support. With one exception — a board member from Parsippany — all the speakers opposed the caps. With one exception — an administrator from Irvington — all the speakers were from wealthy suburbs, red seas in a blue state.

And they were not just superintendents, 70 percent of whom face salary cuts if Christie’s cap goes into effect, as scheduled, in February. Most were elected school board members who pay steep property taxes to attract the best school chiefs money can buy.

Margaret Bennett, a board member from Franklin Lakes, even used the B-word — "bully" — several times to describe Christie’s polices. In what the governor might feel as the unkindest cut of all, Bennett charged him with failing to deal with what she called "the ball and chain dragging down education" — teacher tenure.

"He says he is against tenure but he has not acted against tenure," Bennett said after a hearing that attracted fewer than 100 people. "He is acting against us."

Until now, only teachers and union officials — not allies of people like Bennett — called him a bully. His critics often came from the state’s urban areas — with, of course, the glaring exception of charter school soulmate Cory Booker, Newark’s mayor.

But the fight over superintendents’ pay has opened a third front in the education wars: Now it’s Christie versus the folks with bucks who do not necessarily work as public school employees, who do not live in cities but are strong partisans of public schools.

Some of Christie’s critics were sharp and touched on sacred cows. Here is John Sincaglia, vice president of the Berkeley Heights school board:

"One of the comments made about superintendents’ salaries is that many of them are higher than those of the governor and commissioner. This is a specious observation. Individuals do not become commissioners or governors as part of a career path. It is not their life’s work," said Sincaglia.

"We are paying in excess of $2 million of public funds for our state university’s football coach, but I don’t hear a clamor about lowering that salary."

Christie’s plan would link compensation to school district size, with a maximum of $175,000 for the largest. It would take effect when current contracts expire.

Ricca noted that the present state of local contracts, many with expensive perks, itself grew out of a "reform" of the 1980s — eliminating superintendents’ tenure.

"That was an unintended consequence of tenure reform — we created free agents with high demands. What will be the unintended consequence of this reform?"

The critics raised technical problems — superintendents, for example, who would make less than school principals — but the dominant theme was home rule.

"This is the United States," said James Novotny, a Vernon board member. "Are you going to tell us a locally elected school board can’t make that decision?"

 

Thursday, November 18th

For Cindy Lee Parker, special education has been a school of hard knocks.

Literal hard knocks.

They are manifest in the gaping holes her autistic son, Jacob, 16, has punched through the doors and drywall in her Tuck­erton home and the bruises his fists have left on her body from his frequent aggres­sive outbursts.

“My lip has been split, my nose has been bloodied, my glasses have been broken,” said Parker, 46. “Yesterday was a prime ex­ample. He came out of his bedroom and punched me in the face. I don’t even know why.” Such behavior issues are common among children who are profoundly autistic, ex­perts say. Jacob has had them since birth.

Parker’s complaint is that after stints at four public schools in four different dis­tricts, Jacob’s problems seem to be getting worse.

In each case, she said, her son was placed in a fledgling autism program staffed by in­experienced teachers and aides who weren’t required to have any special training in autism. The teachers and schools were under no obligation to show any measurable results for her son.

The lone bright spot, she said, were the five years Jacob spent at the Children’s Cen­ter of Monmouth County, a state-approved private school that specializes in autism.The staff there was “working miracles” with Jacob, Parker said. His outbursts di­minished, and the family’s home life im­proved.

Then, more than a year ago, the Pinelands Re­gional School District pulled Jacob out of the school over his parents’ ob­jections, after the New Jer­sey Department of Educa­tion enacted new “fiscal accountability” rules. Those rules were aimed at getting districts to curtail costly placements to pri­vate special-education schools.

But transferring Jacob doesn’t appear to be a cost­saver.

In fact, his tuition costs, paid for by the Pinelands district, have increased by 50 percent. While the Chil­dren’s Center charges $56,000 per student, Jacob’s new school, Southern Re­gional High School in Staff­ord, charges $85,000.

The results so far, his mother said, have been deeply discouraging.

“Jacob is doing horribly, absolutely horribly,” Par­ker said on the eve of what she fears will be another tumultuous school year. “We had to call 911 to save him from beating the liv­ing tar out of me. . . . This is like the fourth time.” Parker is one of many parents of disabled chil­dren who have lost faith in a special-education system they say is intractable, ca­pricious and unaccount­able.

“There’s no accountabil­ity for whether the pro­gram is a success or not,” she said, echoing the find­ings of a presidential com­mission on special educa­tion in 2002.

The commission de­scribed a system “driven by process, litigation, regu­lation and confrontation” — not student achievement.

Parker has experienced all of that in the past 13 years, and then some.

“Unless you have the money and the persistence and the knowledge and the know-how to document ev­erything, you never win,” she said. “I’m fighting a system that is so broken, I can’t make it right.”

A classic ‘mismatch’

One day, while Parker tried to relate her family’s experiences to a reporter, Jacob, who is 5-foot-9 and 246 pounds, stood inches from her face, insisting that his mother go buy him a new memory card for his digital camera.

“Broken, fix it, broken, fix it, broken, fix it, bro­ken, fix it,” he repeated.

“I can’t fix it. You need a new memory card,” Parker told her son.

With that, he flung his left arm and struck the side of his own head with a walloping smack.

The daily challenges of raising a severely autistic child are enormous, espe­cially for mothers, who tend to be around their children the most.

One recent study found that mothers of adoles­cents and adults with au­tism experience chronic stress comparable with combat soldiers.

Transfer those same challenges to a public school setting, and the problems can sometimes get worse.

“If you look at autism as a severe neurological dis­order that’s essentially being treated in an educa­tional system, it’s a little bit of a mismatch,” said Suzanne Buchanan, clini­cal director of Autism New Jersey, a statewide advo­cacy group.

“We’re expecting a lot of our teachers, and even our special-ed teachers,” she said. “Frankly, while some certainly have a wonderful skill set and are very effec­tive, a great number of teachers are ineffective, or minimally effective, with students with autism.” Michele Goodman, exec­utive director of New Hori­zons in Autism, a Neptune­based agency that operates seven group homes and two vocational programs for autistic adults in Mon­mouth and Ocean counties, said many autistic stu­dents still aren’t toilet­trained when they leave school.

“There are too many adults coming in here in Depends,” Goodman said. “The system is broken, and the only people who are able to negotiate through it are the squeaky wheels.”

 

The rules change

To be sure, Jacob is not your average special-edu­cation student.

The vast majority of New Jersey’s 200,000 school-age special-educa­tion students have rela­tively minor speech and reading problems, not in­capacitating brain disor­ders like Jacob’s.

Fewer than 12,000 — less than 6 percent of all spe­cial-education students — are classified with autism. And many of those are on the higher functioning end of the autism spectrum. With a little extra help, they can do as well in school as other students.

But the same rules, spelled out in federal and state laws, apply to all spe­cial-education students, re­gardless of what kind of disability they have.

 

In 2008, the rules changed.

Under the state’s new “fiscal accountability” pro­cedures, district child­study teams, which craft each special-education stu­dent’s Individualized Edu­cation Plan, or IEP, were required to consult with their county executive school superintendent prior to placing a disabled student in a private school. The county superinten­dent, an employee of the state Education Depart­ment, is supposed to help identify other school dis­tricts in the area that could accommodate the child’s needs.

While the final decision about where to place the child is supposed to be left to the child-study teams in consultation with the child’s parents, that’s not how everyone interpreted the new rules at first.

In the spring of 2009, the Legislature’s Joint Com­mittee on the Public Schools held public hear­ings in response to com­plaints that children were being denied private­school placements or pulled out of private schools they had attended for years, on account of the new rules.

Parker was among the parents who testified at the hearings. She recounted how Jacob’s case worker from Pinelands Regional abruptly informed her that he couldn’t attend the Chil­dren’s Center any longer.

“I was just flabber­gasted,” Parker testified. “She brought no paper­work with her. She brought no reports with her. There was nothing. It was, ‘Sign this release to send your son to the clos­est public school district because the state will pro­vide us with no aid con­cerning his education if you don’t.’ ” Messages left for Pine­lands Regional’s interim superintendent, Daniel Loggi, were not returned.

At the behest of irate leg­islators, then-state Educa­tion Commissioner Lucille E. Davy issued a memo in May 2009 clarifying the rules, but by then it was too late for Jacob.

Parker and her husband, John Caldwell, 51, tried to fight the district to keep Jacob where he was, tap­ping into their retirement savings to hire an attor­ney. But when their legal bills hit $9,000, and Jacob’s favorite teacher at the Children’s Center moved to Hawaii, they reluctantly agreed to the transfer.

 

A revenue generator

It is frustrating for Par­ker to see Jacob in yet an­other unproven autism program.

“I want to know, what success rate do they have? Show me the data that’s saying that ‘Joey is now in a group home because of all the wonderful things that Southern Regional has done for him,’ ” she said. “I have no idea.” The district’s superin­tendent, Craig Henry, wouldn’t address Parker’s case, citing student confi­dentiality rules.

But Henry noted that the Individuals with Disabili­ties Education Act, the chief federal law regulat­ing the nation’s special-ed­ucation system, doesn’t re­quire districts to collect that kind of aggregate data. “There aren’t any quan­tified benchmarks for stu­dents,” he said. “There’s no standardized way to measure the success of a program.” The only available gauge is parental feedback, which Henry said has been overwhelmingly positive since the district started an autism program in an unused wing of the junior high school three years ago.

“I would say without hesitation the quality is as good as it gets,” he said. “Our parents are ex­tremely satisfied.” Henry cited the involve­ment of several local busi­nesses that are providing vocational training oppor­tunities for students and the “extensive” experience of Jacob’s teacher.

Asked what that experi­ence was, Henry said the teacher took classes in au­tism in college and spent a year teaching autistic stu­dents in another district.

“I didn’t mean it in terms of experience in years,” Henry said.

Instead, he said, he was referring to the teacher’s extensive “interest and time spent studying” au­tism. The teacher has even started a nonprofit founda­tion, Piece of the Puzzle Inc., dedicated to providing job training and employ­ment opportunities to ado­lescents and young adults with autism.

Parker said the teacher is “wonderful,” but the school’s program simply “isn’t behavioral enough” to address Jacob’s severe aggression problems.

“He has no carry-over, no generalization,” she said. “What they teach him there doesn’t carry over here, and what I teach him here doesn’t carry over there. They can take him to the park (with at least two male staff members as escorts), but I can’t.” Parker wasn’t aware that her district is paying $85,000 in tuition to send Jacob to Southern Re­gional.

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “For $85,000 my kid should be tap dancing in Radio City Music Hall. . . . I’m blown away.” Jacob is one of six out-of­district students in South­ern Regional’s program. Their combined tuition costs account for more than $500,000 in annual revenue for the school.

Henry said the state Ed­ucation Department sets the tuition rates, based on certain eligible expenses.

Southern Regional ap­pears to have the highest tuition rate among the sev­eral dozen districts whose autism program tuition rates are listed on the state’s Real Time database, which is still being devel­oped for county superin­tendents to access.

Two Union County dis­tricts, New Providence and Warren, had the second­highest rate listed, $76,220 per student.

Many districts charge less than half that amount. Central Regional, in Ocean County, charges just over $25,000 per out-of-district student for its high school autism program.

Gerard M. Thiers, execu­tive director of ASAH, a nonprofit group that repre­sents the interests of 135 private schools for the dis­abled, said such rates can be misleading.

While the tuition rates at private schools are based on actual expenses, the rates for public schools don’t take such things as employee health benefits, pensions and overhead costs into account.

ASAH’s own study shows that private schools cost less than public schools, he said.

“What appears to be a cheaper rate at a public program, most often it’s not cheaper for the taxpay­ers,” he said.

 

Time running out

Jacob still has another five years before he turns 21 and has to leave the pub­lic school system. His mother is worried what kind of life he’ll have if he doesn’t turn the corner by then.

“My goal is to get him to be part of the world,” Par­ker said. “That’s every par­ent’s goal, whether their kid is a regular-education kid or a special-education kid. We want them to be the best they can be.” Two years ago, Parker and her husband tried to get Jacob into Kennedy Krieger Institute, a pediat­ric hospital in Baltimore, whose 16-bed neurobehavi­oral inpatient unit treats autistic and intellectually disabled children as young as 5 with especially severe behavior problems.

Parker said the highly selective institute accepted Jacob “within 26 minutes” of observing his behavior, but she and her husband ran into health insurance roadblocks and weren’t able to get him admitted.

Parker said there isn’t an inpatient treatment pro­gram anywhere in New Jersey that comes close to what Kennedy Krieger of­fers.

“That is where Jacob needs to be,” Parker said.

Parker tried to get Medi­caid to cover the hospital­ization but was told the family’s income was too high.

Now, she and her hus­band, who have two other children besides Jacob, have reached such a low point that they’re consider­ing getting divorced, sim­ply so Parker could qualify for Medicaid and get Jacob into Kennedy Krieger.

“If that’s what it comes down to,” Parker said, “that’s what we’re going to do.”

Shannon Mullen: 732-643-4278; smullen4@app.com

 

Baltimore hospital offers autistic children, families hope

By SHANNON MULLEN  STAFF WRITER

Alex DeLuca’s parents have something now they sorely lacked through the first 12 years of their son’s life.

Hope.

 

Like many children with autism, Alex, now 13, of Beachwood, has had seri­ous behavior problems throughout his life.

 

Some of these children wind up having to be insti­tutionalized for the rest of their lives. That was the trajectory Alex was on.

 

He used to bang his head so hard against the wall that there are still gaping holes hiding behind a poster of a tiger in the fam­ily’s living room. He left bite marks on his mother’s ankles and scalp, and pur­ple bruises on her upper arms, just beyond the pro­tective pads she had to wear on her arms, because he would pinch her arms when he got upset.

 

After several failed years in the Toms River public schools, he was placed at the Children’s Center of Monmouth County, a private autism school in Neptune, but his behavior problems per­sisted.

 

In desperation, his par­ents, Alex DeLuca Jr. and Annie Mennicucci, turned to the Kennedy Krieger In­stitute, a pediatric hospital in Baltimore.

 

Its 16-bed, inpatient neu­robehavioral unit is inter­nationally known for help­ing children as young as 5 with autism and other in­tellectual disabilities and with profound behavior problems that schools and other therapists can’t man­age.

 

Most children admitted to the unit remain there for three to six months. Alex was there for seven months.

 

To get into the unit, par­ents must have exhausted local treatment resources and must agree to partici­pate in intensive training sessions themselves.

 

‘‘The intervention in­volves teaching a whole new set of skills,’’ said Dr. Louis P. Hagopian, a psy­chologist and research sci­entist at Kennedy Krieger. ‘‘Part of it is teaching the child, but the other part is teaching the parent what to do.’’ The institute’s approach is based on the principles of applied behavior analy­sis, or ABA, which is the science of human behav­ior. The parental training is ‘‘performance-based,’’ meaning parents have to master the techniques, with 90 percent accuracy, before they can bring their children home.

 

Mennicucci, Alex’s mother, made the 300-mile round-trip to Baltimore nearly every day during his last three months in the unit.

 

‘‘She was fantastic,’’ Hagopian said.

 

‘‘They don’t fix him there,’’ said Bobbie Gal­lagher of Brick, a behavior consultant for New Hori­zons in Autism, a Neptune­based agency, who is over­seeing the home therapy Alex receives almost every day. Gallagher’s son Aus­tin, 18, spent 4 months at Kennedy Krieger.

 

‘‘It’s not like he had a tumor removed, and now he’s all better,’’ she said. ‘‘They give you a plan to work on.’’ Alex’s plan divides his entire day, at home and at school, into alternating blocks of time, during which he is either expected to follow instructions or al­lowed to do something he enjoys, such as listening to his MP3 player or watch­ing videos.

 

Because of Alex’s lan­guage limitations, his par­ents, teachers and thera­pists wear color-coded laminated cards around their necks to indicate which set of rules are in ef­fect: green for ‘‘Alex’s way,’’ red for ‘‘our way.’’ The ABA approach also uses tangible rewards to keep children motivated. Alex’s include MP3 time, Gummi bears and choco­late-covered pretzels.

 

His mother has to record virtually everything he does during the day in a binder that Gallagher and his therapists use to spot problems and track his progress.

 

‘‘It’s difficult, still, be­cause this is what I have to do every day of my life, but I definitely have more con­trol over him,’’ said Menni­cucci, 34, who no longer has to pad herself like a football player when she is around her son.

 

While Kennedy Krieger has been a godsend for many families, the costs associated with long-term inpatient treatment there can be prohibitive.

 

Mennicucci said Alex’s bill totaled more than $500,000. Because he quali­fied for Medicaid coverage — Alex’s father, Alex DeL­uca Jr., 48, is a baker, while Mennicucci is a stay­at-home mom — the family paid nothing.

 

‘‘They helped him tre­mendously,’’ Mennicucci said. ‘‘I just wish I went sooner.’’

 

Friday, November 19th

 

SPECIAL CARE UNKNOWN COSTS

 

Asbury Park Press ‘Innovation leading way in special ed’ (Thurs Nov. 18 & Fri. Nov 19 2010)

Vouchers, training gain states’ favor…Last in a six-part series

By SHANNON MULLEN

In California, 25,000 veteran special­education teachers are being sent back to school this year to learn the nuances of teaching students with autism.

In Florida, Georgia and Utah, parents who are unhappy with their local public school’s special-education program can use taxpayer-funded vouchers to send their disa­bled child to another public or private school they think can do a better job.

In Kansas, researchers are developing sophisticated “learning maps” to give ed­ucators a more holistic view of what spe­cial-education students are actually learning.

And here in New Jersey, where fiscal constraints are forcing districts to cur­tail the number of disabled students placed in specialized private schools, the Marlboro School District and the Search Day Program, a private autism school in Ocean Township, have partnered in a cost-saving joint venture.

To save taxpayers money, Search is staffing a preschool and kindergarten class at the district’s early education cen­ter, enabling a half-dozen autistic stu­dents who need specialized instruction to remain in the district.

The district still pays the students’ tui­tion, but it saves on transportation costs, and its teachers benefit from in-service workshops run by Search staff.

“In essence, they’re using our space but it’s 100 percent their program,” said Robert Klein, the district’s director of special services. “It’s really working out well.” Such innovations can’t happen soon enough for parents who feel their chil­dren have slipped through the cracks of a costly and contentious special-educa­tion system that critics say is broken and in need of major reform.

Under federal law, every child with a disability is entitled to a “free and ap­propriate” education. Yet little data exists to gauge the quality of that educa­tion, which costs an esti­mated $3.3 billion per year in New Jersey. Unless par­ents are willing to take legal action, which can be prohibitively expensive, many districts will provide only the most basic serv­ices, some parents and ad­vocates say.

“They just do the bare minimum, just enough to say they’re not in viola­tion,” said one Ocean County parent, who is frus­trated that her 17-year-old son, who is autistic, still hasn’t learned to safely cross the street.

“If you call that a free and appropriate education, I guess that’s what they’re providing,” she said. “But for me, appropriate is what’s best for the child, to be a functional member of society.” The parent re­quested anonymity be­cause she was afraid her comments could jeopardize her son’s services.

‘Combatants into consumers’

Perhaps the greatest challenge to the status quo is coming from the special­education voucher pro­grams that a small but growing number of states have adopted in recent years.

The oldest of these pro­grams is Florida’s John M. McKay Scholarship for Students with Disabilities, named for a state legislator whose daughter struggled with learning disabilities.

Created in 2001, the pro­gram provided vouchers to nearly 21,000 students in 2009-10. The total outlay that year was $138.7 mil­lion.

The amount of the schol­arship is equal to either the amount that would have been earmarked for the student’s education had they remained in their local public school, or the cost of tuition and fees at the private school they wish to attend, whichever is less.

Similar programs have been established in Utah, Georgia and Oklahoma. Louisiana started a two­year pilot program this year. Ohio has a schol­arship specifically for stu­dents with autism.

Maurice Winters, a sen­ior fellow at the Manhat­tan Institute, a nonprofit think tank in New York City, said one of the advan­tages of these programs is that it spares parents and school districts the time and expense of adjudicat­ing special-education dis­putes.

“It’s a market account­ability and choice system,” Winters said. “Instead of getting a court to decide what services to provide for a kid, this system lets parents decide what’s the best place for their child. It solves a lot of problems for special ed.” A report by the Cato In­stitute, a conservative think tank in Washington, D.C., said such voucher programs can transform parents from “combatants into consumers.” Critics of these pro­grams, however, accuse school-choice advocates of using the plight of some special-education families as a wedge to further their pro-voucher agenda. In ad­dition, some parents and disability-rights groups are wary of vouchers because they fear they could under­mine the hard-earned legal protections that the cur­rent system provides.

Arizona’s special-educa­tion voucher program was struck down last year after it was challenged by the state’s teachers union and civil liberties groups, on the grounds that it violated a state constitutional pro­vision barring public funds from flowing to reli­gious institutions.

Meeting the autism challenge

The dramatic surge in autism cases nationwide has placed enormous strain on the special-educa­tion system.

In some states, educators and policymakers are be­ginning to recognize that the unique demands of an autistic child can be over­whelming for even the most experienced special­education teachers.

In California, under a new state requirement, some 25,000 special-educa­tion teachers must com­plete an autism training course by July 2011 in order to work with chil­dren who have the disor­der. The mandate only ap­plies to those teachers licensed to educate stu­dents with moderate to se­vere disabilities.

Catherine Kearney, pres­ident of the California Teacher Corps, a nonprofit group that is coordinating the training programs, said teachers on the whole have welcomed the new rule.

“Many of the teachers, if not most, have looked at their students and said, ‘I need to learn more about autism,’ ” she said.

There is no such train­ing requirement in New Jersey, though some dis­tricts voluntarily provide autism training, and many teachers seek it out on their own.

Yet experts say even well-trained teachers ought to be supervised by someone steeped in what­ever research-based meth­odology the school is using in its autism program.

The most widely used approach is called applied behavior analysis, or ABA, which is the science of evaluating and controlling human behavior.

In Connecticut, a law passed earlier this year re­quires school districts that provide autistic students with ABA services to en­sure that the staff mem­bers or consultants who do so are certified by the Be­havior Analyst Certifica­tion Board, a nonprofit ac­crediting organization.

To be certified, candi­dates are required to have a master’s degree in behav­ior analysis or a related field, complete up to 18 months of supervised work and pass an exam.

The measure stemmed from parental complaints about a paid school consul­tant who falsely claimed to be a certified behavior analyst. In most states, in­cluding New Jersey, “any­body can hang a shingle and say they’re an autism expert,” said Suzanne Letso, a board-certified be­havior analyst who runs a private autism school in Milford, Conn.

 

No child left behind?

Barbara Gantwerk, head of the New Jersey Depart­ment of Education’s Office of Special Education Pro­grams, said special educa­tion is already in the midst of a major reform: the fed­eral No Child Left Behind Act.

That law, passed in 2001, requires that all U.S. stu­dents — including those with disabilities — be pro­ficient in their state’s core academic areas by the 2013-14 school year.

“Years ago, you would go into a school and (the special-education students) would be focused on life skills,” she said. “The ex­pectations have greatly been raised, the barriers have broken down. I think there have been significant changes.” While educators say a wide academic achievement gap between special-education and regu­lar-education students ap­pears to be narrowing, it’s not happening fast enough to meet the now-looming federal deadline.

“Part of the issue is, we need more time, I hate to say it,” said Alexa Posny, assistant U.S. secretary for special education and re­habilitative services.

However, some parents of children with serious cognitive disorders such as autism, Down syndrome or cerebral palsy — who con­stitute fewer than 20 per­cent of all special-educa­tion students in the U.S. — say the federal law, and the focus on standardized test scores it has engen­dered, have little relevance to their children’s needs.

For example, the same autistic Ocean County teen who can’t yet safely cross the street on his own — or hold a conversation, for that matter — is supposed to be able to explain “how British North American colonies adapted the Brit­ish governance structure to fit their ideas of individ­ual rights, economic growth, and participatory government,” among other New Jersey core curricu­lum requirements for high school seniors.

“It’s a little ridiculous,” said his mother.

 

Better data needed

Neal Kingston, director of the Center for Educa­tional Testing and Evalua­tion at the University of Kansas, believes there’s a better way to evaluate what special-education stu­dents know, and don’t know.

In October, the U.S. De­partment of Education awarded his center a $22 million grant — the largest in the university’s history — to develop a new assess­ment tool, called the Dy­namic Learning Maps Al­ternate Assessment System.

Kingston describes a learning map as an “electronic portfolio” that breaks down a set of core curriculum standards to “an almost atomistic level.” The result is a col­lection of “thousands” of different tasks or skills that the student will have to acquire in order to even­tually meet those stan­dards.

The hope is that this tool will help teachers more precisely identify which skills the student needs help with, Kingston said.

“So when a student needs remediation, we can be as diagnostic and pre­scriptive as a physician can be,” he said.

Eleven states, including New Jersey, have agreed to implement the new system, on a pilot basis, in the 2014-15 school year. Kings­ton believes these maps can help parents keep closer tabs on their child’s progress in school.

Meanwhile, Brenda Con­sidine, coordinator of the New Jersey Coalition for Special Education Funding Reform, which represents the interests of several dis­ability rights groups as well as private special-edu­cation schools, says her or­ganization will continue to urge the state Education Department to do a com­prehensive cost analysis of the system, something the group has sought for the past 14 years.

“Nothing in New Jersey has ever looked at the full costs — nothing,” she said. “Yet we’re making a policy decision that says, ‘Bring kids back into the district because it’s cheaper.’ There’s just no data.” Nor has a study been done that looks at long­term student outcomes, she noted.

“Our coalition has never said it’s about more money; it’s about smarter money. It’s knowing where things make a difference in the system for kids,” Con­sidine said. “Without good data, there’s not a lot of so­lutions that make sense.”

Shannon Mullen: 732-643-4278; shannon@app.com

New autism drug tested at New Brunswick hospital

By TOM BALDWIN

NEW BRUNSWICK — Final testing of a new treatment for autism is taking place at Saint Peter’s University Hospital.

“We are targeting the symptoms of autism,” said Dr. Joan Fallon, founder of Curemark LLC, a drug-re­search and development company located in Rye, N.Y. The company is testing its new product at 13 loca­tions nationwide.

The testing being con­ducted at Saint Peter’s in­volves 170 youngsters, hospi­tal spokesman Phil Hartman said.

Fallon said the test pool covers children age 3 to 8. She said she expects results “sometime early next year.” For competitive reasons, she did not want to discuss specifics of the product, called for now “CM-AT,” for “Curemark’s autism treat­ment.” She said the testing started about three months ago. Dr. Barbie Zimmerman-Bier of Saint Peter’s, who is running the study, said: “Subjects heard about it and they got word from support groups. ... There was a screening process to see if they were eligible. They had to be between 3 and 8.” Regarding how children are being tested to see if the drug works and how fre­quently they are being checked, Fallon said, “We use standardized, validated measures to look at change in their behaviors.” Zimmerman-Bier said children were seen at the be­ginning of the study, then at two weeks, four weeks, eight weeks and 12 weeks.

Curemark said in a pre­pared statement: “CM-AT, which has received fast­track status from the FDA, is based on Curemark’s re­search that showed enzyme deficiencies in autistic chil­dren, resulting in an inabil­ity to digest protein. The in­ability to digest protein affects the availability of amino acids, the building blocks of chemicals essential for brain function.

The statement concluded, “If approved, CM-AT will be one of the first therapies to address the underlying physiology of autism.” Fallon said Saint Peter’s was chosen because “they are a well-known center for autism,” citing the work of Zimmerman-Bier, head of the developmental and be­havioral pediatrics program at Saint Peter’s Healthcare System.

“We do see a lot of chil­dren,” Zimmerman-Bier said. “We don’t know what the children are getting. It is a double-blind study.” “We have one of the most advanced testing methodolo­gies in schools and in hospi­tals,” Hartman said. “People actually relocate here to take advantage of the serv­ices available in New Jer­sey.” Tom Baldwin writes for the Home News Tribune.

732-565-7270; tbaldwin@MyCentralJersey.com