During my third year of teaching kindergarten, I had a student who came in from his preschool with a 504 plan. It was the first time I’d seen a 504 plan for a kindergartner. When I looked into the child’s 504, the story – or more accurately, the narrative adults had constructed about this child – became my first critical analysis of 504 plans. This 5-year-old was diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD). I found myself thinking, what 5-year-old isn’t operationally defiant? They will literally look you dead in the face and do the exact opposite of what you ask. Can someone PLEASE explain to me why we are diagnosing children with ODD? I will talk to anyone about this, hell if Spongebob in Bikini Bottom knows, I will meet him on Zoom or pull up. I have so many questions.

The Face Off

Now I don’t know about you but I don’t like surprises. So I reached out to this student’s mother to meet Jeremiah and UGH he was an absolute PEANUT. Giant black eyes, curly hair, and a head too big for his body. I’m also pretty sure I’ve drank smoothies bigger than this child. He posed as much of a threat as a toothpick at a knife fight. During this meeting, I asked mom what was up with his 504 and she said that he had “anger issues” and I told her that in kindergarten we are going to have “love issues”. It was corny, but I said it and I meant it. Jeremiah was a sweet and playful child and yes while he did get angry, his anger wasn’t what made him special. Anger is a human emotion, one that needs to be greeted with patience and love. Jeremiah’s mom was one of my closest parent partners and Jermiah is now in middle school (with an even bigger head), but president of his high school debate team and is an aspiring slam poetry artist. 

Reflecting on a decade in education, there’s a troubling pattern I’ve observed: the only students I’ve encountered with both an IEP and a 504 plan are Black boys, often tagged with these labels in preschool. This is where Walter Gilliam’s research hits hard. His studies, particularly focusing on preschool expulsions, reveal a stark disproportionality – Black preschool boys are alarmingly overrepresented in these statistics. This early career insight was a wake-up call: 504 plans and IEPs are not the gospel truth about a child. They are merely a piece of the puzzle, and often, they miss out on the most important parts of the story.

504 Plans: A Brief History on Ableism and Basically All of the Other -isms 

In today’s educational landscape, 504 Plans are often heralded as tools of inclusion, designed to support students with disabilities by providing accommodations. However, a deeper, critical examination reveals an oppressive reality beneath this well-intentioned surface. 

Firstly, let’s consider the foundational premise of 504 Plans. Originating from Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, these plans are meant to ensure students with disabilities receive accommodations that allow them to access the same educational opportunities as their peers. However, scholars like Thomas Hehir, author of “New Directions in Special Education,” argue that such accommodations often result in mere compliance rather than genuine inclusion. They provide a minimum standard, doing little to challenge or change the systemic barriers that make these accommodations necessary in the first place.

Moreover, the implementation of 504 Plans often falls short in practice. According to research by Laura Schifter in “How Did You Get Here? Students With Disabilities and Their Journeys to Harvard,” students with disabilities frequently encounter a lack of understanding and support from educators and administrators. This gap highlights a significant flaw in the system: the burden of advocating for and managing these accommodations falls heavily on the students and their families, perpetuating a cycle of disadvantage.

Additionally, the 504 Plan system is steeped in ableism, as it operates on the assumption that the problem lies within the student rather than the educational environment. This viewpoint is critiqued by disability rights advocates like Lennard J. Davis, who argue in works like “Enforcing Normalcy” that such systems reinforce the idea of disability as a deficit, rather than recognizing and valuing diverse forms of learning and being.

Furthermore, the intersectionality of race and disability cannot be ignored. As Annamma, Connor, and Ferri discuss in “Dis/ability Critical Race Studies (DisCrit),” students of color with disabilities are often doubly marginalized within the educational system. The 504 Plan, with its focus on individual accommodation, fails to address the systemic inequities and biases that disproportionately impact these students.

Lastly, the reliance on medical diagnosis and documentation for 504 Plans perpetuates socio-economic disparities. As noted by scholars such as David J. Connor in “DisCrit: Disability Studies and Critical Race Theory in Education,” access to medical resources and the ability to navigate complex bureaucratic systems are privileges not available to all, further marginalizing low-income families and communities of color.

In conclusion, while 504 Plans were created with the intention of supporting students with disabilities, they often uphold an oppressive educational system. True inclusivity requires a radical rethinking of these approaches, moving towards a model that fundamentally reshapes the educational environment to be inherently inclusive and equitable for all students. This shift demands not only policy change but a cultural transformation in how we perceive and value diversity in learning.

Damn it, Now I am Mad

If you are a parent or caregiver and your child has a 504 plan, chances are you now have big feelings. But I am your education bestie and I got your back. Here are five recommendations to help you navigate and advocate within the current system while pushing for broader changes:

1. Become an Informed Advocate: Educate yourself thoroughly about the rights and provisions under a 504 Plan. Understanding the legal framework and your child’s entitlements empowers you to advocate more effectively. Resources like the U.S. The Department of Education’s website and local advocacy groups can provide valuable information.
2. Foster Open Communication with Educators: Establish a collaborative relationship with your child’s teachers and school administrators and call them out when you have to! Regular communication can ensure that the accommodations in the 504 Plan are being effectively implemented and adapted as needed. It’s also important to share your insights and concerns about how the plan is functioning in practice.
3. Seek Community Support: Connect with other parents and support groups who are navigating similar challenges. These communities can provide emotional support, practical advice, and a collective voice for advocating systemic changes. Platforms like the Parent Training and Information Center (PTI) can be a great starting point.
4. Push for Holistic Approaches: Advocate for a more inclusive and holistic approach at your child’s school that goes beyond the individual accommodations of a 504 Plan. You have the right and power to collaborate on any plan that concerns your child. 
5. Participate in Policy Advocacy: Engage in advocacy at a broader level to push for systemic change. This could involve participating in school board meetings, collaborating with advocacy organizations, or writing to policymakers. Your experiences and insights as a parent can be powerful tools in advocating for a more equitable and inclusive education system.

In Conclusion: Beyond Labels and Plans

My experience with Jeremiah and the unsettling trends I observed taught me one crucial lesson: our children are more than the labels we stick on them. They deserve an education system that sees and nurtures their entirety, not just a part deemed ‘special’ or ‘defiant.’ It’s time for a shift, not just in policy but in our collective mindset towards inclusivity and equity in education. Let’s not just change plans; let’s change narratives and, ultimately, lives.