The Willow Glen Resident Photograph by Skye Dunlap Serious Fun: Joanne Cordova is working to get the San Jose Unified School District to set up a special program for her son, Brett, who suffers from Multi-Symptom Developmental Disorder. Local boy with a rare brain disorder struggles to find way through schools Mother says school district has been unresponsive to her son's special needs By Christine M. Lias With his big smile and intense blue eyes, Brett Cordova could easily be listed among the top-10 cutest 5-year-olds in Willow Glen. Grasping a can of soda pop, eyes riveted on Nickelodeon's Rugrats, he seems like any other kindergartner. But Brett isn't like most 5-year-olds in Willow Glen, or the nation for that matter, because he has a very rare health condition. A year and a half ago, doctors from the Children's Health Council in Palo Alto diagnosed Brett with multi-symptom developmental disorder, or MSDD. Brett has neither the mental capacity nor the social skills that ordinary boys his age possess. He seems to live in his own world. And Brett is oblivious to the controversy surrounding his condition and the resulting struggle between his mother and the San Jose Unified School District. Brett's mother, Joanne Cordova, says she isn't necessarily disappointed with his education--in fact, she says she "adores" his teacher. But she has become increasingly upset with the school district's administration. Telling her story, Cordova produces a binder stuffed with correspondence and notes from telephone conversations and meetings, as well as a litany of harsh epithets for the district. "Everything I've gotten for Brett has been a struggle," Cordova says. The state Department of Education mandates that a "special needs" child like Brett receive 210 minutes a month of occupational therapy. But because MSDD is such a little-known diagnosis, San Jose Unified did not know how to deal with Brett, and offered him therapy designed for autistic children. Cordova says he needs more occupational therapy time than an autistic student. The district's decision is understandable--MSDD is a new mental health classification. Asked to explain the condition, a spokesman for the Children's Health Council was unfamiliar with the term, and had to consult a medical reference book. According to the University of San Francisco Division of Child Development and Neurology, MSDD children demonstrate "an inability to communicate and relate well with others." It is among a category known as pervasive development disorders, which includes autism. Children with PDDs experience neurotransmitter difficulties, which affect the speed and ability of the brain to process information. Cordova says her son is stimulated by noise and light, and does not decipher the information around him. She says everything is a blur for the 5-year-old, and he must work to focus on one thing at a time. In effect, he has the functioning mind of a 2-1/2 year old. San Jose Unified spokeswoman Maureen Monroe concedes that the district is a large bureaucracy and at times inflexible. But she says her agency has done everything it can to accommodate Brett's needs. "The bureaucracy here has not ignored [Joanne Cordova's] requests," Monroe says. "In fact, the bureaucracy here has followed all the correct procedures and provided superior care, more than the letter of the law requires." Cordova continues to agitate for more resources on Brett's behalf. "I don't want my son to not be able to be a fully functioning, independent adult," she says. "I don't want him to only be able to learn basic life skills if there is any possibility of him thriving and progressing." Because she felt that the public school system was not satisfying her son's educational needs, Cordova hired two San Jose State University graduate students, Elizabeth Ford and Amy DeRoboam, to tutor Brett and give him occupational therapy. Ford says that when she first met Brett in 1997, he couldn't even sit quietly in a chair. "It was a two-hour nightmare," she says. After that first meeting, Ford devoted herself to improving Brett's social and mental condition. Over the past couple of years, Ford says, Brett's development has improved dramatically. "Within a week or two, he calmed down and got it," she says. Ford pulls out an oversized, white binder titled "Brett's Big Book of Fun," which contains meticulous notes on each tutoring session. One divided section lists 15 words that Brett could understand during the first session. Now Ford proudly leafs through page after page of vocabulary words that Brett has mastered. "We're trying to generalize his behavior, show him what is appropriate everywhere," she says. Specialized education such as Ford and DeRoboam provide costs money, something that Cordova does not have and wishes the district would provide. "I am scared to death that because I'm a single, working mother, that what I can afford to give to Brett is not necessarily everything that he needs," Cordova says. "It was kind of like someone told me what Brett had but then didn't tell me what to do from there. I wish there was someone I could have called, but there was no one that I could talk to." The district, Monroe counters, should not be held entirely responsible for Cordova's criticisms. By law, the district is required to provide services. But those services are costly, and for large, cash-strapped districts such as San Jose Unified, special education becomes an impossible burden. "School issues are a big problem for all of us," says Jackie Coleman, an education resource specialist from the Santa Clara- based support group Parents Helping Parents. "It's extremely typical for this conflict to occur. The school is required to provide the services, but a lack of money is a big problem, especially in the state of California." Former Gov. Pete Wilson's 1998-1999 $39.6 billion education budget only included 5 percent for special education, according to the state Department of Education. In contrast, roughly 10 percent of New York's $15.2 billion budget is set aside for "vocational and educational services for individuals with disabilities." Newly inaugurated Gov. Gray Davis touted educational reform during his campaign, and educators anxiously await his plans. "I hope that under Gray Davis education, particularly special education, will receive more money," Coleman says. Monroe agrees that special education demands more money. "Special education has the potential to bankrupt school districts," she says, adding that it costs about $100,000 annually for each of the 3,200 children receiving special education in SJUSD. "Because of the high cost of special education and the plight of the families, it puts providers, who have the desire to do what's best for a child, in a terrible position." Cordova is a product of the school system she is now up against. She lives with Brett in her childhood home in a quiet Willow Glen neighborhood. She attended Lincoln Glen Elementary, Markham Junior High and Willow Glen High schools. She now battles the same, familiar system. "I have to continually remind [the district] of what Brett needs," she says. While she understands that the district's administrators don't know exactly how to deal with her child, she says she wishes they would let her determine what's best for him. "I want a behavior modification program that's tailored to Brett's needs," including increased occupational therapy she says. She also wants the district to know that she is "the authority on Brett," and "to acknowledge that much responsibility to teach Brett" falls on her. The district says Cordova never gave voice to her complaints. If Cordova was unhappy at any time, Monroe says, she should have requested an Individual Educational Plan meeting. "With any bureaucracy, there are procedures you have to go through," Monroe says. "Don't get me wrong. I really sympathize with [Cordova], and I'm the first one to attack bureaucracy. But the bottom line is that she never requested a meeting or additional services." Cordova insists that she did everything she could, pointing to her binder of notes. The district also points to the 10-child-maximum setting that Brett receives at Allen Elementary. Together with teacher Sandy Porter, two instructional associates ensure "almost constant, one-to-one attention," according to Monroe. In addition, a special education student may receive speech therapy, adoptive physical education, busing and summer school. Coleman points out that not every school can afford to hire an occupational therapist, so Brett is bused to Simonds Elementary for sessions with a district-salaried occupational therapist once a week. "We feel that we have provided the level of service that we are required to provide, and more," Monroe says. Seated at her kitchen table, Cordova looks over her shoulder at Brett, the cause of such controversy. Brett is merrily bouncing on a stool across from the counter. He stops, looks up at his mother, and smiles. "This child will not slip through the cracks," Cordova says, tapping the counter with each word for emphasis. [ Back to Contents Page | Willow Glen Resident Home Page | Archives ] This article appeared in the Willow Glen Resident, January 13, 1999. ©1999 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.