I can’t help but feel hopeful about the promises of school choice. For families like mine, this isn’t about politics – it’s a lifeline. It represents something personal: the freedom to choose an education that meets my children where they are and opens the door to a life of hope, dignity and independence.
I am a special needs mom. I have three children, each on a different level of the autism spectrum, each with unique strengths, ability levels and cognitive needs. Navigating the education system with one special needs child is difficult. Doing it with three shaped every aspect of my life and taught me a hard truth: A one-size-fits-all education leaves far too many children behind.
My oldest son, Kolijah, now 23, is level one autistic. He was nonverbal until the age of six. Despite my persistent efforts to access early intervention speech therapy through public resources, the options to us were limited and often unaffordable unless a family was well insured or independently wealthy. Kolijah had his own language, sounds and babbles that only I understood. When we said, “I love you,” he would respond “lou-lou.” I knew exactly what he was trying to say, even when his school didn’t.
Kolijah attended public pre-K and kindergarten in an inclusion classroom, but after first grade he was reassigned to a special needs class that functioned more like a daycare than a learning environment. He was safe and cared for, but he wasn’t progressing academically or verbally.
My middle child, Evan, now 19, has more significant needs. He was diagnosed with vision impairment at birth and falls into level two of the autism spectrum. Because of his early diagnosis, we were able to secure early intervention services sooner, which made a difference in his development. Even so, when he eventually entered school, he joined the same special needs classroom as his older brother – an environment that once again emphasized supervision over growth.
My youngest, Isabella, now 18, followed a different path. She entered public school in a general classroom and showed signs of advanced intelligence and artistic talent early on. Social challenges were present, but I dismissed many signs of her autism because they didn’t resemble her brothers’ experiences. It wasn’t till age 12, at the suggestion of her brothers’ teachers, that she was diagnosed as level three autistic. With appropriate support, she thrived in public school and is now enrolled in a local college, majoring in special needs education.
When we moved to New Orleans, my children entered the city’s charter school system. On the surface, charters promise choice. In reality, they are driven by test scores – scores that often matter more for funding and staffing decisions than individual student growth. Once again, my boys were underserved.
As they grew, a deeper fear took hold. Would they be employable? Could they live independently? If something happened to their father or me, would they end up as wards of the state? I had an overwhelming feeling of despair about what kind of futures they would have.
That’s when I learned about St. Michael Special School, designed specifically for students with special needs. St. Michael meets each student at their ability level, building individualized education plans focused on real progress, not standardized benchmarks. But the tuition was far beyond our reach.
As my boys grew and I began touring local high schools to find a good fit for them, I couldn’t help but wonder about the possibilities that a school like St. Michael could have for my family.
On a whim, I scheduled a tour and asked about scholarships. I applied for every program I could find. Rejection letters followed – until one didn’t.
I will never forget opening the ACE Scholarships award letter. While it didn’t cover the full cost, it made the impossible possible.
From the moment Kolijah enrolled at St. Michael, he flourished. He became a leader among his peers, serving in student council, acting as class president and earning a starring role in his senior-year musical.
The following year, Evan enrolled as well. He gained confidence, discovered a talent for voice acting and began dreaming of a future that includes marriage, fatherhood and a desire to travel to Japan someday. He will always need some support, but now he has hope.
For my family, school choice has been more than an answered prayer. It has been the difference maker for my children.
I share our story not as a policy argument, but as living proof: When families are trusted to choose, children with special needs can thrive. Because of choice, I no longer fear what the future holds for my children.
