Placing people with handicaps in regular schools matters for them and for their non-disabled classmates, who must learn to accept difference and develop a culture of welcome.
When it comes to autism, the risks are severe without solid training among school staff. Without proper knowledge and method, we risk reinforcing the very belief that autistic people are unmanageable—a self-fulfilling prophecy that becomes real over time. What, then, should we do? Not long ago, I attended a conference organized by CGIL Scuola on these issues, titled "There Is No Going Back." Right. We don't go back. We keep the law. But we need to make it work.
I want to propose something for debate: given that staff training is what makes the difference for autistic students, we might consider specialized schools—ordinary schools, but ones specifically equipped and designated to serve students diagnosed with autism. This approach would mean that knowledge about autism wouldn't depend on a single support teacher, who may leave, but would become embedded across the entire school community, including administrative staff. Real, lasting competence. In a small city, one such equipped school per grade level in each school district would solve the problem for many autistic students and their families.
E.'s Story
E. is a ten-year-old nonverbal autistic boy. He attended kindergarten and, once autism was diagnosed, had a one-to-one support teacher. Of course, E.'s teachers knew nothing about autism. With good intentions but gross errors, they would raise their voices to scold E. and his classmates. Each time, E. would rage, run toward the nearest wall, and bang his head. The teachers panicked. Without meaning to, they reinforced the behavior with immediate, alarmed attention. E. learned: if I want something, I bang my head against the wall. Repetition left a lump across his forehead, a callus. But then E. learned something else—that he could place his hand between his forehead and the wall to cushion the blow. The strategy worked just as well, minus the pain.
During kindergarten, despite the Foundation's efforts and his family's push to provide trained staff and continuity, E. went through twenty teachers—permanent staff, substitutes, and substitutes for substitutes, all approved by the school unions.
At elementary school, which E. still attends, he has already cycled through roughly ten support teachers, in addition to regular classroom teachers like his peers. Last year, due to budget cuts by the Ministry, his one-to-one support was stripped away (as if he had recovered from autism). The hours he no longer spent with his substitute support teacher were handed over to educators hired and trained by the local municipality.
By the numbers, E.'s school experience should have been a failure. Yet it hasn't been. E. is well integrated, liked by his classmates, a hard worker. He does addition and subtraction, reads and writes simple words, works to control his repetitive behaviors, and watches his peers carefully, trying to imitate them. To whom does this success belong? Not to the school system or the Ministry. Largely to E., who learned through exhaustion and unbearable stress to navigate the constant disruptions school threw at him.
F.'s Story
F. came to the Foundation about a year ago. He was in eighth grade when he arrived. His school record had gotten worse with each passing year. Elementary school had been manageable, but middle school brought serious problems. His classroom and support teachers reported major behavioral difficulties and no cognitive gains. It seemed odd to us. In Foundation sessions, F. always performed well, was cooperative, and showed no violent behavior toward himself or others. Encouraged by F.'s progress over the past year, his family enrolled him in high school. The high school teachers coordinated in advance with the middle school teachers and the Foundation. Observing F. through a one-way mirror, they assessed that he could manage the transition without significant problems. But after only a few days in school, the teachers requested a specialist evaluation from the local health authority, hoping to have F. declared unfit for high school. To prove F. was unmanageable and dangerous, they produced—and showed repeatedly—a tissue with a lock of hair, which F. had supposedly ripped from a teacher's head.
When F.'s mother brought us the story, discouraged, the Foundation took a firm stance. We offered complete cooperation with the school to ensure F.'s successful inclusion, while also reserving the right to pursue legal action if F. was rejected.
Today F. attends on a reduced schedule. There have been no more traumatic incidents. Yet despite repeated invitations to collaborate and consider our advice, the teachers have maintained only formal relations, strictly limited to working hours.
It never occurred to anyone that the single violent incident at the start of the year was caused by the teacher's own mishandling—or that F., who is genuinely a good young man by nature, deserves credit for ensuring it never happened again.
FONDAZIONE BAMBINI E AUTISMO
Headquarters: Via Vespucci, 6 - 33170 Pordenone Tel. 0434.29187 - Fax 0434.243643
e-mail: bambini.e.autismo@iol.it
Operations Center: Via Vespucci, 8/a - 33170 Pordenone Tel. 0434.247550 - Fax 0434.243643
e-mail: centrovespucci@libero.it
Villa Respiro: Via 1. Svevo, 2 - 33084 Cordenons/Pn Tel. 0434.41593
e-mail: villarespiro@libero.it