[OPINION] Special Ed: We Can Do Better Together

Namhee Stokvis is the mother of 2 children. She moved to Westport 2 years ago from New Jersey, in large part because of the school’s special education program. She writes:   

My son is 11 years old, and requires round-the-clock support. He is greatly impacted by the adults who guide him.

Since he entered public education at age 3, his communication, socialization and learning skills declined significantly. At age 5, within just 2 months he came home with 2 ripped jackets, a torn backpack, and tears in his eyes.

We raised concerns, offered strategies, and asked for collaboration. Instead, we were dismissed or minimized. The dominant tone was, “You are a hot parent” (their actual language), “and we are the experts who know better.”

In 2021, without our agreement, the district moved our son to a different classroom and changed his program. When we discovered this, the response was simply “exercise your rights,” a phrase that made clear nothing would change unless we pursued legal action.

We were frightened and confused. We had worked collaboratively through COVID, and believed partnership was possible. But from that moment on, what we encountered was nonchalance, ignorance and deception.

We met other parents experiencing similar problems, but most were too afraid to confront the district directly. They feared retribution. They kept their struggles private. We felt completely alone. Every day became painful and unbearable.

We began searching for a better place — somewhere our son could be safe and supported. After years of comparing districts, we chose Westport. We sold our home, and left everything we had built.

When we arrived in the summer of 2024, the district contacted us within days. We took that as a good sign.

And when we met our son’s new child study team, we felt something we had not felt in years: relief. Every teacher, therapist, paraprofessional and administrator treated our son with care and professionalism.

For the first time in a long time, my husband and I could focus on our work without worrying whether our son was safe or respected. He adjusted quickly, something that surprised us given his history. Our gratitude for Westport grew with each passing month.

But as we approached the one year mark, my worries returned.

Once my son’s adjustment and well-being were established, I began advocating for his education. I noticed that most decisions were already made before I entered the room. My role was often to be informed, not to make decisions.

When I requested an expert observation, it was denied. When I asked to observe my son myself, I was allowed 30 minutes in an isolated room — nowhere near the environment where he learns, plays and struggles.

I found myself worrying: If I advocate more strongly, will we still be treated collaboratively? If I raise concerns about the academic program, will I be ignored or misled? Will the same patterns that traumatized us in New Jersey repeat themselves here?

I am too afraid to test that boundary.

This year, during a community discussion at the Westport Library, I met parents who described the exact problems I experienced in New Jersey: ignorance, defensiveness, and dismissive narratives about families who speak up.

Narratives like “those parents are crazy,” “we are perfectly professional,” and “sue us if you don’t like it.”

It feels like the nightmare is returning. Sleepless nights, financial strain, and the emotional toll of simply trying to do right by my child.

I ran from New Jersey, believing Westport would be a safe place. Are we safe here?

Screenshot from Westport Public Schools’ special education page.

When a district denies and minimizes issues to avoid accountability, we lose our space to have honest conversations. And when parents are pushed toward legal battles, we are at an inherent disadvantage.

No parent has more financial power than a school district (unless you are Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos). And even when parents “win,” children still lose. The critical time for intervention passes. Opportunities to learn and grow disappear while we fight.

So, what are we doing?

A story last month on “06880” (“Special Ed: Solicit Feedback; Prioritize Student Progress Over Legal Proceedings“) shows that Westport’s legal expenditures in special education far exceed those of surrounding towns.

That alarms us. It suggests that problems are being handled through conflict rather than collaboration, consuming time and resources that should be utilized for our children.

Some parents are scared. Others are already suffering, just as I once was.

We chose Westport because we believed it is a better place for our family. And in so many ways, it truly is. The dedication of teachers and professionals here is extraordinary. I bow to their daily devotion. The richness of this town, its food, art, music and people, has made us feel welcomed and grateful.

But we can do better in how we handle conflicts and communications in special education.

When we improve the way we resolve disagreements, everyone benefits.

Students gain stronger outcomes. Teachers feel supported and confident. The district’s reputation grows. And children who rely on us the most receive the timely interventions and education they desperately need.

This is not about blaming. It is about responsibility and courage. It is about refusing to let fear, defensiveness, or bureaucracy stand in the way of our children’s future.

Let’s do better together.

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