 Indie/Aspie students Nate (above) and Jack (below)  |
Occasionally, Rubio has to ask someone to stop talking. One student has his feet up on the table; another looks like he might be asleep. In that way, it is no different from any other classroom. But there are some key distinctions. Instead of 30 or more kids sitting in rows, about 10 sit around a big round table. Four computers line one wall, and on the mezzanine above, more computers sit in patches of sunlight falling from the slanted roof. While at times the school reflects the chaos of its students, who are used to breaking all the rules, there is also a powerful feeling of mutual respect and community.
The Community School began as an experiment five years ago for kids with average or above-average intelligence, who for other reasons were in danger of dropping or failing out of Onteora High School. With mounting pressure to meet federal standards tied to funding, teachers are rarely able to slow down to attend to individual problems, and more and more kids are slipping through the cracks of the narrowing mainstream. Onteora, like many school districts, faces a restricted budget, and with assistance from the state, spends up to $100,000 per child to outsource their special education. When an educator named Judy Upjohn approached the district with a concept for returning these kids to the community, Onteora felt ready to try something new. "Any kind of change that happens outside the public school system doesn't help the majority of kids. My hope was that this school would serve as a model for what is possible in the public system," Upjohn said.
Upjohn's concept began as a seminar, grew into an elective film course, then a supplemental program, and finally into a full-time school. They called the school "Indie," for Independent, and the kids "Indies." The full-time program, now in its first year, serves 34 kids in ninth and tenth grades. Additional Indie-inspired classes are offered to more students at the high school.
 10th grade Indie students surfing the web |
A year after the Indie program was launched, Valerie Paradiz, the single mother of a student with Asperger's Syndrome, got permission to set up a program in the same building. These kids were called "Aspie," short for Asperger's. The two programs, while separate, operate side by side as Indie/Aspie, and both cater to students who might otherwise miss out on a good education, or any education at all, because of their social or emotional differences.
Jack, a 10th-grader at the Community School, said throughout middle school in Kingston his peers tormented him for his finite attention to detail and his highly sensitive artistic senses. While extremely intelligent, Jack has been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a high functioning form of Autism that makes it even harder to emotionally and socially connect to the outside world because of sensory and social overwhelm. This made junior high school unbearable, Jack said, and he was in danger of dropping out of school altogether.
While Indies and Aspies are intellectually capable of meeting mainstream academic standards, they say they have been labeled as misfits, throwaways, and failures because they do not conform to any of the typical diagnoses. They do not fit into Special Education classes because they do not have traditional learning disabilities. They do not respond to the Boards of Cooperative Educational Services (BOCES), an extension of the public schools that provides vocational training for kids from many districts. Traditionally, BOCES was the last step for potential dropouts who could be inspired by learning a trade. Other options for districts include private, and very expensive, residential services for the severely emotionally disturbed. But when kids fall through the cracks, they don't go away, Onteora High School Principal Barbara Ruben said.
"They end up in the court system, or as drop-outs, in private facilities, or disenfranchised for whatever reason," she said. "They get our attention when some angry kid shoots up the cafeteria, as in Columbine. I'm not saying that a program like this prevents that, but it focuses on kids who feel that alienation or lack of connection with the bigger school system. Whether it's bad behavior, substance abuse, or poor grades, Indie's role is to cut through all that and give them a point at which to begin again."
 Spencer creates a sculpture |
Spencer Davis, a 10th grader who spent two years dropping in and out of Onteora High School, says the program saved him academically and socially. "There's more freedom and they treat you with respect. [At Onteora] you're confined; everything's by the book. I was doing really bad in school and I was on probation. This was kind of like my second chance."
Jasmine, who was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, said that when she was in Special Ed at Onteora, she had to spend the majority of her day in the same room. "Do you know how hard that is when you have ADD?" she asked.
Will Lytle is an Indie graduate and now an intern at the program. At Onteora, he said, he was known as "a horror" by the teachers. In the 10th grade, he joined Indie. It was the people he met at the school—the administrators, teachers, and other students—who allowed him to grow to his full potential, Lytle said. He was no longer an outcast. Instead, he became part of a community that recognized him as a unique individual with a bright future. And the creative courses provided an outlet in which Lytle could connect to learning. Lytle described it as an awakening, and is now majoring in environmental biology at Ulster County Community College. "I was outgoing, but never for the right reasons," Lytle said. "Indie was exactly what I wanted in an education. Suddenly someone gave me a very personal reason to get involved in my own education."
Valerie Paradiz, a former professor of Humanities at Bard, and author of Elijah's Cup, said she watched her son, diagnosed with Asperger's, headed for disaster in his public school and was inspired by the Indie program, where she worked part-time. "Even though [Indies and Aspies] are very different, some of their needs and challenges are very similar, like not being able to cope or having to be in constant cope mode in the mainstream system," Paradiz said. "For kids with Asperger's especially, there is too much social input to really be able to function in the mainstream. They have too many sensitivities to light, noise, and smell. The fluorescent's flicker can disrupt everything, and also the stigmatizing that goes on. A lot of kids have had extremely traumatic experiences being persecuted, teased, bullied, and completely misunderstood. We started this school to circumvent that damage by building a model program that could be replicated elsewhere."
The Aspie program is now in its second year now and carries 16 students from seventh to 10th grades. While the Aspie program, like Indie, follows state-mandated curriculum, the kids have the support of a specially trained staff and a sensory friendly environment. Small classes, a "crash room," a modified homework program, and no fluorescent lights all provide an Aspie-friendly environment. Head Aspie teacher Michelle DeFelice said that in addition to speech and social skills therapies, the Aspie program provides self-advocacy and media literacy classes. Kids learn about autism and how to think about it in a critical-analytical way, and teachers are trained to respond to Aspie needs.
Traditionally, Paradiz said, many Aspies learned that autism is a tragic disease. But, she explained, "It's not a disease. You don't die from it. There are some kids who don't realize that. They thought it was something like AIDS and were living in fear for many years until they came to this school. The goal is not to make them normal or appear normal, but to work with their self-esteem so they can have pride, a sense of identity, and face the challenges of their weaknesses." Paradiz plans to expand the program by a new grade every year and offer transition into the high school if and when appropriate.
 Sal and Jasmine in art class |
The Aspie program is funded by tuition from out-of-district kids. Sending a student to Aspie costs their home districts about the same as sending a kid to BOCES, and is reimbursable by the state. The Onteora District saves money on costs by returning their students from other out-of-district programs.
The Onteora School District pays about 60 percent of the annual Indie budget, which Upjohn said came to a total of about $170,000 last year. Upjohn has to raise the rest from private sources, an increasingly difficult job in such a depressed economic climate. But in order to be effective, Upjohn said, the program needs special resources the district doesn't pay for, like Ron Rubio, who is not a certified teacher, but a martial arts instructor.
The program does not currently have the money to expand past the 10th grade; many Indie kids said they will either try to go back to high school or get their GEDs.
Both programs have peaked the curiosity of other districts. In March, principals from Saugerties, Kingston, and New Paltz visited. Saugerties High School Principal Tim Price said his district needs an alternative to what is currently being offered, and pointed out, "It's either pay me now or pay me later. We're going to pay for this at some point. How productive are people going to be if they don't have an adequate education?"
For Jack, the highlight of a recent class trip to Manhattan was visiting the legendary Howard Johnson's in Times Square. Times Square might be the worst place for a kid with Asperger's: fluorescent lights, loud noises, the clash of a thousand scents at once. Jack said he got some great photographs for his next collage. "I'm happier," he said. "I've got a lot of friends. I'm just not as afraid of things as I used to be."