When the mail came on what would have been Tyler Schweinle's 16th birthday, it brought a painful reminder of a long fight.
By COLETTE BANCROFT
Published October 30, 2003
[Times photo: Lara Cerri]
LeQuina Knox, who rode the bus and attended camp with Tyler Schweinle, holds the memorial booklet for her friend at his funeral July 17.
When Tina Schweinle opened the mail on Oct. 20, she found a report on the academic progress of her son, Tyler, who was severely disabled by cerebral palsy.
The report was devastatingly negative. In four "functional academic" categories scored 0 through 5, Tyler had received three 0s and a 1. In communication skill, he received 2 out of 5.
Schweinle had taken Tyler to be assessed in April, so why, she wondered, was the report arriving six months later? And why on the worst of all possible days?
Tyler Schweinle died July 12. The day the report arrived would have been his 16th birthday.
"To receive this assessment, out of the blue, on his birthday was a huge blow," his mother says. "It really hurts to know that, after 12 years of arguing and fighting an unjust evaluation system, it continues."
Schweinle and her husband, Fred, spent most of Tyler's life dealing with doctors, schools, social service agencies and public prejudice on their son's behalf. An article in the St. Petersburg Times on Aug. 3 described the family's struggles and their belief that Tyler had been capable of more than standard tests indicated.
Carol Thomas is assistant superintendent for elementary education and exceptional student education for the Pinellas County schools. "We are totally apologetic for the district's insensitivity," she says. "Honestly, it was a teacher following a directive.
"Everyone thought they were doing the right thing."
Schweinle says the report, called a Florida Alternate Assessment, came without any cover letter or explanation. It was mailed by a special education teacher at Dixie Hollins High School, where Tyler had been scheduled to start classes this fall.
Though the assessment was mailed by the school, Thomas says, the report was generated by the Florida Department of Education.
Special education students are evaluated near the end of the school year by a team of teachers, and the data goes to Tallahassee, she says.
"It takes all summer for Tallahassee to process them. We don't know what the results will be; it's just like taking FCAT." All of the alternate assessment reports received by the school were mailed Oct. 17, Thomas says.
Diagnosed as profoundly retarded at 3, Tyler at 15 had completed eighth grade, making the honor roll in a program for physically disabled children at Tyrone Middle School. He used a sophisticated computer to communicate and was learning to program it.
Tyler died suddenly of a fast-spreading infection, which may have been caused by a tear in his intestine or a burst appendix.
Schweinle says that not long before the school year began, she received several mailings from Dixie Hollins. "I sent (special education teacher Lisa Hodges) a letter with (Tyler's) obit and the mailing label. I said, please don't send us anything else, please don't contact the family anymore."
Thomas says the school received that letter and that, although Hodges' name was on the envelope the report was mailed in, she did not make the decision to send it. A supervisor, whom Thomas declined to name, told Hodges to mail it.
"The teacher asked if she should send it to the parents," Thomas says. "They knew that he had died, and they had heard the parents were putting together a memory book. They thought this might be one document they would like to have."
It wasn't. Schweinle says, "To know that someone debated whether to send it or not, and did anyway, hurt unbelievably."
After Schweinle and a family friend called Dixie Hollins about the report, Thomas called Schweinle to apologize on Oct. 21. They spoke again two days later, and on Friday the principal of Dixie Hollins, Jeffrey Haynes, called Schweinle to apologize.
Schweinle says she understands the report came from the state, not the school. The evaluation, she says, is another example of what Tyler and his family dealt with in a system that attempts to quantify the abilities of children with unique sets of disabilities.
"Could he pick up a pencil and write? No, of course not," she says. Tyler's teachers from Tyrone Middle School tried to reflect his skills in their evaluation, she says, but the standards they must use are restrictive. "They couldn't answer the questions any other way."
What she doesn't understand is why the report was mailed. "What was to be gained with sending a report that . . . would cause great pain and anguish for the parents and siblings?
"I want to hold my son in my arms and tell him that Mommy will make this right, Mommy will fix it for him. But, here I sit, crying one more time."
