A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from the principal of my sons' school. Seemed Youngest was involved in a scuffle with his classmate Allen*. As my peace-loving heart began to break, Principal said it was nothing to get upset about.

"While investigating this incident," Principal said, "I've discovered that Allen had hit your son, and other children, a few times leading up to today. Your son went to several teachers for support and finally had had enough. So he turned around and stopped Allen from hitting him by pushing him away. Therefore, Youngest isn't in any trouble. I will deal with Allen. In light of everything, Youngest's behavior is understandable."

I thanked Principal and hung up the phone. However, as I walked over to their school at the end of the day, I couldn't comfort myself by completely agreeing with him. At the same time, I couldn't bring myself to punish Youngest. We had a talk about Allen and the importance of staying away from him. And that was it.

I mentioned this to several friends and family members.

One dear friend said, "If a bully yelled at your son and he defended himself with words, you'd commend him. Well, if a bully threatens the kid physically and he defends himself physically, you should commend him as well. We can't always respond to the physical with words and calm rationalization. Because it doesn't work. We respond like to like."

Another said, "Somebody got up in his grill and he defended himself. Good for him."

Perhaps.

If you agree with the above sentiments, does your mind change with the knowledge that Allen is mentally handicapped?

As a special education teacher, for years I thought mainstreaming, the practice of educating the disabled along with non-disabled children, was a great idea. We hoped that disabled kids benefited from being around their peers and non-disabled kids learned tolerance and understanding.

Sometimes that can happen. One of my favorite stories this year was when Oldest came home and talked about Elaine*, a severely disabled child in his class. Elaine was walking down the steps and slipped. Oldest helped her down safely and she grabbed him and hugged him.

"It was in front of everyone," he said, "and the kids started to laugh. I didn't want Elaine to feel bad so I hugged her back. The other kids stopped laughing."

Such lessons, and the leadership qualities they elicit, are invaluable. However, more often, I see frustration in students whose classroom time is interrupted by tantrums and inappropriate behavior. I've also seen evidence that severely disabled kids get frustrated as well, when they can't perform or learn the same material easily grasped by their classmates. Children can sometimes be cruel and often overwhelmed teachers, who can't possibly be everywhere at every time, are sometimes powerless to stop the taunts and abuse that occurs.

Do handicapped students belong in classes with non-disabled kids?

Recently, The Gazette ran a series about a local special education student who was sexually assaulted in the hallway of her high school. Kalie McArthur was so disabled, she needed constant adult supervision.

She was left alone in the care of a peer buddy, a fifteen year-old boy, which resulted in tragic consequences. There are many people who handled this situation badly, as the article points out, but nowhere does it ask the relevant and important question: Is a high school, filled to capacity with 1,600 kids, the proper place for such a girl?

Allen and my son get along fine now that Allen's medicine has been altered to help him deal with anxiety. But I can't help wondering, in the midst of trying to educate everyone equally, are we hurting the very kids we're trying to help?

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***