The persistent indecision has many causes. One is the difference between children like Chase and those like Kelly.
Staunton graduates are expected to go to college or work. About half of Hampton graduates go to work, while the rest move into the care of local agencies or group homes. Since the early 1990s, the Virginia School for the Deaf, Blind and Multi-Disabled at Hampton has been designated as the school for children with at least one other disability besides hearing or vision problems, and many students are seriously disabled. Parents at both schools question the wisdom of melding the groups.
"My son is not one of those I can foresee ever counting from one to five," said Kelly's mother, Sonya Karber, who believes that both schools should stay open. "My concern is, can he help me get his shirt on him? One of our goals is to get him eating baby food."
Karber said she would never send her son on the bus trip across Virginia from their home in Norfolk.
Nor would Josh Eubank, 20, a Staunton student from Loudoun County, consider going to Hampton, which has reduced its academic program as the number of severely disabled students has risen. Even Staunton can't match Loudoun's curriculum, Eubank said, but public high school was "really, really depressing" for a blind student. When he hit his teen years, he saw friends drop away one by one.
Since enrolling at Staunton last year, Josh has helped start a band called the Dorm Dogs and met a girl he likes enough to introduce to his parents. "He would call home and I'd hear his friends in the background laughing and making fun of him," his mother, Bonnie, said. "That was good to hear."
Founded in 1839, the Staunton school was the first public school for the blind and the deaf in the country, according to its superintendent, Nancy Armstrong, and its alumni are determined lobbyists. Many are like Leonard Earl Wright, who arrived as a deaf 8-year-old in 1959, knowing no sign language and unable to communicate even with his parents. By Christmas, he was fluent. Wright graduated in 1970, went to college and became a teacher of deaf children.
"The school allowed me the opportunity to be involved fully -- the literacy clubs, the drama clubs, Boy Scouts," he said through an interpreter. "They molded me into what I am."
Rachel Bavister, who taught deaf students at the school for 30 years, describes it as an incubator for independence, sheltering students just long enough to teach them how to get along in the world. Among her former students, she said, are a professor of clinical psychology and an accountant.
"We have deaf staff and staff who communicate, so our kids have absolutely no excuse not to grow up to be citizens, hold a job and contribute," Bavister, who is deaf, said in a written interview.
Hampton's story is closely linked with Staunton's. The school was founded by a white Staunton graduate for the children barred from Staunton because of race, and alumni loyalty to its heritage "is no different," Hampton Superintendent Darlene White said.
"Both schools are embedded in the communities that they serve. . . . By no means is this a setting that does not have a legacy of its own."
Today, 81 percent of Hampton's staff and two-thirds of its 73 students are black, and at Staunton, 93 percent of staff and almost three-quarters of its 118 students are white. Many Hampton advocates are convinced that theirs is still considered "the black school" and, therefore, a target for closure, said Nan Mills-Smith, a vision specialist with Hampton City schools who works closely with the state school.
Goodman said the racial designations ended years ago and play no role in the merger discussion. Still, he acknowledged that "we need to bend over backwards to make sure everyone knows this is being done fairly."
The prospect of closing any state facility causes anxiety among its employees, Hangar said. Legislators from both sides of the state have tried to protect the closest school, partly to preserve access for their constituents and partly to shelter more than 150 jobs at each site.
Each school has a 70-plus acre campus. At hilly Staunton, historic buildings that date to the 19th century would need extensive renovations for Hampton students in wheelchairs.
Hampton's buildings have been refurbished or replaced over the years and most were built in the 1970s, but the school there would need to reclaim space it rents to local school districts.
Rather than choose between the two, however, the legislators could choose to close them both, as more and more of the state's hearing and visually impaired students -- 95 percent of them last year -- are being educated at their local schools.
Federal law requires schools to provide access to children with disabilities. Only if teachers and parents agree that the local system cannot give a child an appropriate education can they consider outside placements.
"Rarely have we made that recommendation," said Billy Ritter, vision specialist for Prince William schools, which sent three of its 188 hearing and visually impaired students to Staunton last year and one to Hampton. "It's both that we're very confident in services for our children and we feel that if students are going to live and function in a community, they should live in that community."
Fairfax County sent three of its 740 hearing or visually impaired students to Staunton last year and seven to Hampton. Those who stay home have a range of options, including classes taught by special teachers, interpreters to accompany them to classes and classes taught in sign language.
But advocates say that for some, the residential option is critical. Bavister, the former Staunton teacher, notes that the sign language symbol for "mainstreaming" is the same as the symbol for "drowning."
"At their home schools, unfortunately, they're usually the token," said Mary Murray, director of student life at Staunton. "Here, they have a chance to be the leader."
White said the never-ending merger discussion has prevented Virginia educators from talking more broadly about how to serve students.
"This is always about who will survive versus what do we need and how we can best make that happen," she said.
The task force has until Dec. 1 to make a recommendation. But many educators believe that lawmakers will decide, again, not to decide -- and Staunton superintendent Armstrong said that will be a disservice to the students at both schools.
"It's been unjust to everyone involved that . . . we've stretched it out for so long," she said.
© 2003 The Washington Post Company
I had read this article in the IRL paper as im from the DC metro area and i was surprised to read the confirmation of rumors going around that VSDB might merge into 1 school -- i know a few ppl from VSDB - Staunton
Staunton graduates are expected to go to college or work. About half of Hampton graduates go to work, while the rest move into the care of local agencies or group homes. Since the early 1990s, the Virginia School for the Deaf, Blind and Multi-Disabled at Hampton has been designated as the school for children with at least one other disability besides hearing or vision problems, and many students are seriously disabled. Parents at both schools question the wisdom of melding the groups.
"My son is not one of those I can foresee ever counting from one to five," said Kelly's mother, Sonya Karber, who believes that both schools should stay open. "My concern is, can he help me get his shirt on him? One of our goals is to get him eating baby food."
Karber said she would never send her son on the bus trip across Virginia from their home in Norfolk.
Nor would Josh Eubank, 20, a Staunton student from Loudoun County, consider going to Hampton, which has reduced its academic program as the number of severely disabled students has risen. Even Staunton can't match Loudoun's curriculum, Eubank said, but public high school was "really, really depressing" for a blind student. When he hit his teen years, he saw friends drop away one by one.
Since enrolling at Staunton last year, Josh has helped start a band called the Dorm Dogs and met a girl he likes enough to introduce to his parents. "He would call home and I'd hear his friends in the background laughing and making fun of him," his mother, Bonnie, said. "That was good to hear."
Founded in 1839, the Staunton school was the first public school for the blind and the deaf in the country, according to its superintendent, Nancy Armstrong, and its alumni are determined lobbyists. Many are like Leonard Earl Wright, who arrived as a deaf 8-year-old in 1959, knowing no sign language and unable to communicate even with his parents. By Christmas, he was fluent. Wright graduated in 1970, went to college and became a teacher of deaf children.
"The school allowed me the opportunity to be involved fully -- the literacy clubs, the drama clubs, Boy Scouts," he said through an interpreter. "They molded me into what I am."
Rachel Bavister, who taught deaf students at the school for 30 years, describes it as an incubator for independence, sheltering students just long enough to teach them how to get along in the world. Among her former students, she said, are a professor of clinical psychology and an accountant.
"We have deaf staff and staff who communicate, so our kids have absolutely no excuse not to grow up to be citizens, hold a job and contribute," Bavister, who is deaf, said in a written interview.
Hampton's story is closely linked with Staunton's. The school was founded by a white Staunton graduate for the children barred from Staunton because of race, and alumni loyalty to its heritage "is no different," Hampton Superintendent Darlene White said.
"Both schools are embedded in the communities that they serve. . . . By no means is this a setting that does not have a legacy of its own."
Today, 81 percent of Hampton's staff and two-thirds of its 73 students are black, and at Staunton, 93 percent of staff and almost three-quarters of its 118 students are white. Many Hampton advocates are convinced that theirs is still considered "the black school" and, therefore, a target for closure, said Nan Mills-Smith, a vision specialist with Hampton City schools who works closely with the state school.
Goodman said the racial designations ended years ago and play no role in the merger discussion. Still, he acknowledged that "we need to bend over backwards to make sure everyone knows this is being done fairly."
The prospect of closing any state facility causes anxiety among its employees, Hangar said. Legislators from both sides of the state have tried to protect the closest school, partly to preserve access for their constituents and partly to shelter more than 150 jobs at each site.
Each school has a 70-plus acre campus. At hilly Staunton, historic buildings that date to the 19th century would need extensive renovations for Hampton students in wheelchairs.
Hampton's buildings have been refurbished or replaced over the years and most were built in the 1970s, but the school there would need to reclaim space it rents to local school districts.
Rather than choose between the two, however, the legislators could choose to close them both, as more and more of the state's hearing and visually impaired students -- 95 percent of them last year -- are being educated at their local schools.
Federal law requires schools to provide access to children with disabilities. Only if teachers and parents agree that the local system cannot give a child an appropriate education can they consider outside placements.
"Rarely have we made that recommendation," said Billy Ritter, vision specialist for Prince William schools, which sent three of its 188 hearing and visually impaired students to Staunton last year and one to Hampton. "It's both that we're very confident in services for our children and we feel that if students are going to live and function in a community, they should live in that community."
Fairfax County sent three of its 740 hearing or visually impaired students to Staunton last year and seven to Hampton. Those who stay home have a range of options, including classes taught by special teachers, interpreters to accompany them to classes and classes taught in sign language.
But advocates say that for some, the residential option is critical. Bavister, the former Staunton teacher, notes that the sign language symbol for "mainstreaming" is the same as the symbol for "drowning."
"At their home schools, unfortunately, they're usually the token," said Mary Murray, director of student life at Staunton. "Here, they have a chance to be the leader."
White said the never-ending merger discussion has prevented Virginia educators from talking more broadly about how to serve students.
"This is always about who will survive versus what do we need and how we can best make that happen," she said.
The task force has until Dec. 1 to make a recommendation. But many educators believe that lawmakers will decide, again, not to decide -- and Staunton superintendent Armstrong said that will be a disservice to the students at both schools.
"It's been unjust to everyone involved that . . . we've stretched it out for so long," she said.
© 2003 The Washington Post Company
I had read this article in the IRL paper as im from the DC metro area and i was surprised to read the confirmation of rumors going around that VSDB might merge into 1 school -- i know a few ppl from VSDB - Staunton