Hope in friendship and inclusive education
Featuring a special special ed teacher; and commentary on federal cuts
A Friendship That Changed Everything
When Mary Ellen Begley was a kid, she befriended a neighbor who had Down syndrome. Mary and Dale baked cookies together and dressed up dolls. Their families trick-or-treated down the street alongside one another. Mary’s family went to fundraisers for the school her friend attended—St. Anthony School Programs in Pittsburgh.
None of this may sound unusual—until you realize it took place in an era when children and adults with disabilities were often sent away to institutions, far from home.
That one friendship paved the course of Begley’s life, enhancing the lives of hundreds of children with and without disabilities. It led Mary to teach for 45 years (and counting) in public and Catholic schools’ special education programs. This week, news surfaced that public special education faces a very uncertain future (more below). So it’s important—and hopeful—to consider the impact of relationships fostered in neighborhoods and schools.
A School Built on Inclusion
After growing up attending events at St. Anthony School Programs, Begley has spent most of her career working there. St. Anthony’s serves students with intellectual disabilities at various Catholic school sites. This is a blessing for the region, as only about 2% of Catholic schools include children with intellectual disabilities, according to The National Catholic Board on Full Inclusion. Children and families do not have to be Catholic to attend.
In 1953, St. Anthony’s (previously an orphanage) became a school for what it called “exceptional children.” It operated on a separate site from other Catholic schools. Then, 30 years ago, as public policy shifted to bring together students with and without disabilities in the same buildings, St. Anthony’s followed suit.
Begley and her peers were dispatched to teach kids with disabilities in Catholic schools where the majority of students did not have disabilities. Students with disabilities attend classes alongside their peers as they’re ready and able, and join other students for lunch and activities.
“Sometimes a child may only be able to stay in a class 20 minutes,” Begley said.
When the children with intellectual disabilities can’t attend the classes, they’re in what’s called a resource room.
St. Anthony’s teaches its students academic as well as social skills.
“You can teach all the skills they need, but if they don’t have good social skills they’re going to be fired,” Begley said.
A Mother’s Perspective
I’d been vaguely aware of St. Anthony’s for a long time. But I learned about Begley and the school from a non-Catholic mom whose daughter, who had autism, attended the program. (Read more about Briggs’ book and innovative parenting efforts.) The mom, Jennifer Celeste Briggs, said she had been hesitant about sending her daughter, Sarah, to a Catholic school.
But she found that St. Anthony’s was more willing to adapt to her daughter’s needs than public schools, and that Begley was especially willing to be part of a team with parents. Briggs was impressed that no matter how hard a day Sarah had, the teachers were not “calling to say, ‘Your kid is a problem,’ but, ‘Your kid is having a hard time, how can we support her?’”
Begley had a knack for helping Sarah when her emotions started to overwhelm her, Briggs said. At one point, Begley successfully lobbied for Sarah to have a hammock in a school room. And when Sarah and other students participated in school plays, Briggs said:
“Mary Ellen goes to every rehearsal for four weeks in a row and then during the play is backstage.”
A Ripple Effect
Begley says that many neurotypical students—those without disabilities—have, like her, pursued careers in healthcare and education, inspired by their classmates.
“The students and the faculty are so accepting of our program,” she said. “Some nondisabled students have written college essays about St. Anthony’s and how it affected them. It’s so inclusive—everybody’s on board.”
Faith in Action
While there are students from all faith traditions, Begley thinks the school’s religious background is essential to her and the students’ success.
“Being in the Catholic setting makes a difference for kids with special needs,” Begley said.
“You can bring God into it—(asking) ‘What would Jesus do?’ and ‘Everybody has their special gifts.’”
Commentary: Challenges in Special Education
As I was writing this story, news outlets reported that the special education staff in the U.S. Department of Education had been laid off under the Trump administration.
While this does not necessarily impact Catholic schools like St. Anthony’s, it creates uncertainty for the majority of students with intellectual disabilities, their families, and teachers in America.
St. Anthony’s School Programs are admirable, but there’s a cost. Families pay $6,000 of the $18,000 fees, with the remainder coming from church collections and fundraisers. Fortunately, 70 percent of St. Anthony’s students receive scholarships.
While I hope the Catholic community builds on its inclusive education efforts, special education in public schools is critical to learning, work, and social opportunities for people with intellectual disabilities—and all of us whose worlds are richer where inclusion exists.
I pray that cooler, kinder, wiser heads prevail in Washington, and that federal employees who serve children with intellectual disabilities will see their work restored.