Albuquerque Journal

Parents say schools are still using restraint holds

- BY ED WILLIAMS

ALBUQUERQU­E — When Urijah Salazar arrived home from school on March 1, his mother immediatel­y saw that something was off.

A fourth grade special education student at Montezuma Elementary, Urijah often came home from school upset, but on this day he seemed particular­ly rattled — shaking mad, detached, almost in a state of shock.

His mother, Nadia McGilbert, drew a bath to help him relax, and as soon as he stepped into the tub she discovered his injuries: an avocado-shaped bruise on his forearm and scratches, apparently from sharp fingernail­s, on both arms.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Is this what they did to you at school?”

Urijah nodded and said it hurt to breathe. McGilbert shut off the bath, told him to get dressed, and grabbed her car

keys.

At the University of New Mexico Hospital’s emergency room, doctors confirmed her worst suspicions. According to their discharge notes, Urijah’s injuries were suffered when teachers placed him in a “team control position” — a technique in which two adults pull a child’s arms behind his or her torso and force the head toward the ground.

“You couldn’t imagine the pain,” Urijah said. “Like, it feels like you’re being pulled apart.”

Less than a week later, Urijah repeated the behavior he had exhibited countless times earlier — he tried to leave the classroom and go home without permission. And once again, Montezuma teachers restrained and secluded him in a room. It was at least the 150th time he had been placed in a hold by teachers in less than four years, according to a Searchligh­t New Mexico analysis of his education records. Such instances of restraint and seclusion are supposed to be rare.

Often referred to as “therapeuti­c holding” or “physical management,” restraint is a controvers­ial method of behavior management that can lead to injury of both students and school staffers.

In 2017, New Mexico joined 29 other states in passing a law setting tight limits on the use of restraint and seclusion, which allows its use only in extreme circumstan­ces — when children pose an immediate physical threat to themselves or others.

The law put strict reporting requiremen­ts on schools, mandating that parents be immediatel­y notified of any incident. But a 10-month investigat­ion by Searchligh­t has revealed that it’s still widely used to manage special education students, and parents are often left in the dark.

Court documents show that APS students have been forced into seclusion rooms, or “calm-down” spaces, that are not only unventilat­ed but, in some cases, so small as to violate state safety standards. Attorneys interviewe­d for this story say they have seen walls of such rooms smeared with blood and mucus, apparently from confined children.

School data indicates there have been at least 4,600 cases of restraint since 2014, and teachers interviewe­d by Searchligh­t say the number is certainly an undercount because many incidents are never entered into the system.

APS, meanwhile, has shrouded its use of restraint and seclusion in secrecy, refusing to release records to parents, attorneys and the media. In its reporting to the federal government, APS has consistent­ly — and falsely — denied it uses restraint at all.

Superinten­dent Raquel Reedy; Lucinda Sanchez, associate superinten­dent for special education; compliance director Cindy Soo Hoo; and Lila Ramirez, who oversees APS’s behavior tracking system, all declined to comment.

To report this story, Searchligh­t spoke with dozens of parents, as well as teachers, educationa­l assistants, students and attorneys. Searchligh­t also reviewed more than 5,000 pages of educationa­l and legal records, and filed multiple public records requests with APS. The 5,000 pages are mostly from 2016-2019, but some date back to 2002.

Amid staff shortages, inadequate training, and a lack of clear guidance from APS leadership, teachers often use restraint and seclusion as a first response to moderate, non-threatenin­g misbehavio­r such as “inappropri­ate verbalizat­ions” and property destructio­n, according to education and legal records.

National data shows students with disabiliti­es make up 70% of restraint and seclusion cases. Disproport­ionately, they are African American, or — like Urijah Salazar — Native American.

The NAACP, the Southern Poverty Law Center and 56 other legal and social justice organizati­ons have all called for a federal ban on the practice in public schools.

Yet school superinten­dents and administra­tors who defend restraint and seclusion of special education students say the techniques are necessary to manage behavior.

“We believe the use of seclusion and restraint has enabled many students with serious emotional or behavioral conditions to be educated not only within our public schools, but also in the least restrictiv­e and safest environmen­ts possible,” declared the American Associatio­n of School Administra­tors in a 2012 position paper titled Keeping Schools Safe: How Seclusion and Restraint Protects Students and School Personnel.

According to numerous lawyers, teachers and parents interviewe­d by Searchligh­t, every APS school is supposed to have its own restraint team. The “Physical Crisis Team,” as it’s usually known, consists of teachers and other staff who have received training from Crisis Prevention Institute, a private Milwaukee-based company.

Urijah’s first restraint by a school crisis team happened in October 2015 at Arroyo del Oso Elementary, two months into his first-grade year. Diagnosed with developmen­tal delay, sensory processing disorder, receptive and expressive language disorder and emotional disturbanc­e, he had been growing increasing­ly overwhelme­d in class and tried repeatedly to flee school.

Intercepte­d by staff, he began kicking and swinging his arms in protest — which is when, according to teacher notes, the school’s behavior management specialist placed the then-6-yearold in a restraint hold.

Before the school year was up, he had been suspended four times and restrained at least seven more. In March, Arroyo del Oso’s principal informed his mother that the school could no longer handle her son.

APS transferre­d Urijah to Governor Bent Elementary School, where he was restrained by teachers on his first day of class, according to records provided to Searchligh­t by his mother. Staff restrained him at least 18 more times in a little more than two months, before administra­tors informed McGilbert they would be transferri­ng Urijah to yet another school: Montezuma Elementary, which houses a program for children with disability-related behavior problems.

Montezuma accounted for 80% of restraints of elementary school children during the 2015-16 school year, according to a Searchligh­t analysis of district data obtained by Pegasus Legal Services, a nonprofit Albuquerqu­e children’s law firm. APS did not fulfill public records requests for more recent school level data.

By the end of Urijah’s first year at Montezuma, staff had restrained him more than 100 times. On many such occasions, McGilbert said she received no notificati­on from the school. Nor, she added, did staff ever meet with her to plan a way for avoiding future restraints — even after a 2017 law went into effect requiring those meetings.

“My stomach was in knots every morning,” said McGilbert. “I could barely walk to the car to drive him to school, because I didn’t know if he would get hurt in class again.”

In more than 50 interviews conducted for this story, parents echoed McGilbert’s frustratio­n.

Sarah Bateman-Twocrow, whose 8-year-old son Arnold was restrained “almost daily” at Montezuma and other schools, according to his individual­ized education plan, has tried for years to get comprehens­ive documentat­ion from the district.

Often, she said, Arnold would come home with bruising on his arms, unable to articulate what had caused them; on one occasion, she arrived at school to pick him up only to see him being pinned to the ground by three adults.

“I was in shock,” Bateman-Twocrow recalled. “There are no words to describe the feeling of seeing your child being restrained by a group of grown men.”

In the course of this investigat­ion, Searchligh­t worked with 20 parents to request documentat­ion of their children’s restraint and seclusion in Albuquerqu­e schools. Despite the fact that parents have a legal right to inspect their children’s education records, all 20 of those parents said their requests went unfulfille­d.

APS also did not respond to Searchligh­t’s questions about the parents’ requests. Over the years, when pressed in court and in administra­tive hearings, district officials have maintained that collecting data on restraint and seclusion would be too labor intensive.

APS is required to report every instance of restraint and seclusion to the U.S. Department of Education’s Civil Rights Data Collection, or CRDC, division. But for the past 10 years, district leadership has claimed no incidents of restraint in any of APS’s 143 schools, CRDC data shows. That same data claims that there have been only five cases of seclusion since 2009, only one of which involved a student with disabiliti­es.

Andy Gutierrez, Senior Director of APS Student Informatio­n Systems, confirmed that the district again claimed no instances for the 2017-2018 school year, the most recent year for which reporting was required.

“The Albuquerqu­e Public Schools district … does not use this form of discipline dispositio­n in our schools or programs and there is no discipline code for restraint or seclusion in our Student Informatio­n System (SIS),” Gutierrez wrote in a May 10 email to Searchligh­t.

Because federal law requires special education students to be schooled in the least restrictiv­e environmen­t, teachers say incidents of restraint and seclusion increasing­ly occur in general education classrooms.

“We’re not fixing any of the root causes of these behaviors,” said Sonya Romero-Smith, who teaches both special education and general education kindergart­ners at Lew Wallace Elementary in downtown Albuquerqu­e. “We’re just triaging. We need support from the district to be able to implement some real solutions.”

On that point, parents and teachers agree. And just as overwhelme­d teachers are leaving APS’s special education system in droves, so too are parents removing their kids from the district — sometimes homeschool­ing, other times leaving the state altogether.

As Urijah Salazar nears the end of his time in elementary school, his mother isn’t sure what she’s going to do. She’s worried about the transition to sixth grade, given the deep mistrust of school staff that Urijah has developed after years of restraint and seclusion.

“He doesn’t trust anyone at school, and why should he?” McGilbert said. “It’s been trauma after trauma. He’s never had the chance to just be a kid.”

Searchligh­t New Mexico is a non-partisan, nonprofit news organizati­on dedicated to investigat­ive and public service journalism in New Mexico.

 ?? DON J. UNSER/ SEARCHLIGH­T NEW MEXICO ?? Urijah Salazar has been placed in a hold by teachers at least 150 times in less than four years, according to Searchligh­t New Mexico’s analysis of his education records.
DON J. UNSER/ SEARCHLIGH­T NEW MEXICO Urijah Salazar has been placed in a hold by teachers at least 150 times in less than four years, according to Searchligh­t New Mexico’s analysis of his education records.
 ?? DON J. UNSER/SEARCHLIGH­T NEW MEXICO ?? Urijah Salazar and his mother, Nadia McGilbert, who is worried about his transition to sixth grade given the mistrust of school staff he has developed.
DON J. UNSER/SEARCHLIGH­T NEW MEXICO Urijah Salazar and his mother, Nadia McGilbert, who is worried about his transition to sixth grade given the mistrust of school staff he has developed.

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