“Every time I meant to say no– I remembered Shunamit and said: ‘OK, Let’s’ give it a try….’” This was the brief and delightful message with which the principal summarized Shunamit’s eight years at Etzion, an extraordinary school for children with special needs. An eight-year educational journey that was complex yet insightful for the school staff, for Shunamit and for us; it began on the verge of rejection. Shunamit was accepted to the school but with a huge question mark. The school’s principal, with her humane and educational sensitivity, saw the difficulties and the looming hurdles, yet listened and saw potential and possibilities. She carefully read Shunamit’s therapeutic report and heard us. Shunamit was sitting in the room with her large green eyes, two braids framing her face. Was there a chance?

The journey to “Hello, first grade” began in Shunamit’s second and final year of preschool. At the time, our town, Givatayim had a special education elementary school, relatively close to home. It was designed for children with special needs with a wide span of developmental challenges. So with that broad range the director of the psychological service was sure that it was the place for Shunamit. Without considering whether the school would meet and promote her needs.

“It’s a school for kids like her!”
“What do you mean kids like her? Would it advance her capabilities?”
“What abilities are you talking about!? A girl who can barely hold a pencil!?”
“Would the educational framework nurture her potential?”
“What potential? Look how many difficulties she has!”

As far as the system was concerned, Shunamit was a mass of problems, limitations, and incapacitation. Her interests, curiosity, and potentials, both hidden and visible, were not addressed and were not even considered. She was branded. I decided to go to the elementary school to see what it was like. It was a short visit, limited in what I was allowed to observe and I left with a bleak impression, yet decided not to rush a decision. I would continue to observe, from the outside, to see what was going on in the playground. And looking on from other side of the fence, only reinforced my early impression. The courtyard was wide, shaded, with playground facilities; but with few human voices, with very little communication going on. What I saw was disturbing and depressing silence. This seemed like no place to foster Shunamit and her sociability.

After a few visits, in and outside the school, my first impression turned into a deep conviction. However, the director of our town’s department of psychological service was firm in her position, and emphatically announced that she would not support a request to transfer Shunamit to a special needs school in another municipality. Assessments on Shunamit’s needs and abilities from the neurologist and the occupational therapist, both experts in their respective field were to no avail. Her decision was to deny us a choice in schools.

I was determined to do the right thing for my daughter and I pulled out my trump card: we are a religious family and it is Shunamit’s right, as of all children in Israel, to receive an education compatible with the parents’ choice. Parents could send their children to state secular or state religious schools. I said that Shunamit had a right to both special education and the family’s religious orientation. No response from the director. Yet, since a significant bureaucratic obstacle was removed, it was already easier to explore new options. Thanks to my place of work, The Center for Educational Technology, I met school supervisors with compassion, experience, and common sense. I turned to the supervisor of the religious special education schools in our area. I sent her all the documents and expert reviews and she understood Shunamit’s needs. She recommended a state religious school in the city of Bnei Brak and gave us a referral to the local psychological services.

We came to Bnei Brak’s psychological service accompanied by the occupational therapy specialist who worked with Shunamit, and were met with openness and a desire to help. However, they made it clear to us that there was one decisive and determining factor, the school staff. After all, Shunamit was a “outside student”, outside the Bnei Brak municipality and the school was not obligated to accept students from other cities.

The initial impressions of the school’s principal were not encouraging. Most of the students at the school needed a special education framework because of family issues. Most of them seemed normative, almost ordinary. As far as I remember, none of them had a problem holding a pencil. Nevertheless, the principal decided to give Shunamit a chance, subject to a trial period, until after the High Holidays. It was a school year that began about a month before Rosh Hashanah, and on the explicit condition that there would an all-day aid for which we would have to pay. The supervisor helped us, she found a college student majoring in special education. Shunamit cooperated to the best of her ability, she understood that much depended on her. She loved the classroom teacher and bonded with the aid.

Then came the holiday of Sukkot and school vacation –the end of the trial period. The assignment for the vacation was to be able to read well all the new words they have learned since the beginning of the year. Shunamit loved words, and she very much wanted to be able to pass the test. Every day after taking her morning dosage of medication we set together with the textbook. She read the words again and again every time in a different order. She struggled, made mistakes, correcting herself, and was frustrated yet determined. I was with her, hoping that she would be able to read the words in class. Stay in the school.

On the first day of school, in the afternoon, the teacher was on the line. “You won’t believe it,” she said sounding happy. It turned out that Shunamit was the only one in class that read all the words without a single mistake. The teacher was so surprised, that she rushed to call the principal so that she could see with her own eyes Shunamit’s achievement. Shunamit read again all the words correctly. It was a moment of inspiring achievement, of joy and pride. Shunamit managed another hurdle. She was officially accepted to the school, with the aid funded by the Ministry of Education. Shunamit became a full-fledged first grader at the Etzion elementary school for children with special needs. A victory. For Shunamit and for all the children who deserve the best education that a state has to offer. In the state’s formal rigid education bureaucracy, there were professional women, doctors, therapists, teachers, principals, who in their own way each opened the door to Shunamit. They are the unsung heroes who stand with and for children with disabilities. They give hope a chance.

Matia Kam is an Israeli writer; she volunteers as representative of special needs children at a local municipality.

Translated from the Hebrew by Ayala Emmett