Special Education Today Newsletter 5(46)
Here’s the news and info for Special Education Today for the week ending 17 May 2026
Well, howdy and happy day! We are nearing the end of the merry month of May, a calendrical period that also pretty much serves as the end of the volume year for Special Education Today. As usual, I am preparing this issue of the newsletter on Sunday so that it can be sent to subscribers—that’s you, Dear Readers—on Monday morning (local time). It is something like the 248th (-st? -rd?) time for the publication of the SET newsletter, and I anticipate that there will be this one and then one (maybe two or three?) more before SET goes into vacation mode for most of the month of June. Then the newsletters will start again 6 July 2026. So, all you Dear Readers who have not survived one of these annual changes, be forewarned that you’ll receive fewer messages from SET in the coming weeks, but things should pick up again in about six weeks.
For now, however, you can content yourselves with “the usual”: This issue’s administrative info update, a catalog of posts from the previous week, and a little commentary. Oh, yes…first…a photo!
Photo
Gene Burton, who was a neighbor and friend, passed away 5 May 2026. He was dedicated to his community, exemplifying the importance of giving a damn about the people in his part of the world, of acting accordingly. The published obituary omitted a lot of the aspects of this good man’s life.
Th accompanying 2006 photo illustrates two of his activities. It shows Gene in the cab of a first-responder truck of the local fire department, for which he volunteered and, what is more, the occasion of the photo was a fund-raising foot race and picnic for the community.
Gene drove a school bus in our quite rural area. Some mornings when I was out for a run, I’d see him on the narrow, country roads shuttle a bus load of kids to school; he would nearly always honk his horn, put his hand out the driver’s window, and wave or point at me. Sometimes I would wait at the intersection of the tiny country lane where we lived and the state road when it was time for him to collect young neighbors for their ride to school; Gene would stop and have a quick chat with me through the bus’s doors while the children boarded and got safely seated. Then he’d say, “Good to see you. Gotta go, get these children to school,” and he would drive away.
Gene had strong connections through sports with his community, too. Before I got to know him, he organized a local baseball team composed almost exclusively of adult African-American players. Gene’s team played against the late John Armstead’s—another friend—team from nearby Ivy. I was delighted to have the chance to talk about baseball with both of them and sad that I didn’t get to do so with both at once. I suspect there were some stories they could tell. They were both featured in a book called Sunday Coming, that chronicled the history of black baseball in Virginia.
His link to special education and disabilities are not the reason I am featuring him here. There was a brief connection, though, and I’ll return to that in the commentary of this issue.
Status update
Special howdy and hello to Jackie R. and Trent T. They’ve joined other contributors to SET, and I thank them very much for their votes of confidence.
OK. SET is right on the cusp of passing the 1200-subscribers mark. Tell you ma. Tell you pa. Tell all your friends—ooh la la!. It’s a great time to subscribe! The total number of followers is over 1600.
Some folks who are doing a lot of sharing: Kristin McM., Betsy T., Jan H., Jennifer K., Leah W., Cheryl Z., Jean S. It’s so great to have you folks out proselytizing for SET. Thank you!
Table of contents
If your only connection with SET is reading this newsletter, you are missing the “breaking news” (teehee) that appears on the Web site at https://www.specialeducationtoday.com during the week. Often, I push posts out via the email list, but you can see them all if you regularly visit the site.
Here are the posts for the past week. They are in two groups.
Public
Special Education Today newsletter 5(45): Does anyone care what transpired on SET during the week leading up to mothers’ day?
J. R. Smith took his LD to college: What is the story about the basketball player’s graduation?
Friday catch-up notes—15 May 2026: What might have made it into a longer post this past week?
A. Northern discussed her “reimagining” of IES: What did she have to say in an interview with Rick Hess?
Paid subscribers
A mini-lesson in decoding “vce” words: What’s good and not-so-good about this illustration of a decoding activity?
Let’s salute Steve Forness!: Is it not a great day to note our friend’s birthday and wonderful contributions?
Be sure to check the SET Web site to keep current. You’ll find an HTML-formated version of this newsletter (much prettier than this funky version that comes in the e-mail) as well as any newer posts.
Commentary
As regulars among the Dear Readers of SET probably have inferred from their experience with my writings, I have pretty little expectation with “counseling” or “talking” with students is particularly beneficial. To be sure, I think it’s great to talk with kids in common, everyday circumstance. And those conversations should be respectful, considerate, and encouraging. I don’t, however, figure that it’s helpful to have kids recount their misdeeds, explain motivations, express “deep” feelings, and all that sort of stuff. I have yet to see convincing evidence that that sort of talk helps turn students into responsible, gracious, or grown-up children.
I was reminded of my misgivings about counseling when Gene Burden once asked me for help. Gene had hardly any connection with special education, even though had kids on his bus who had disabilities and we had even talked about my work from time to time. The closest I think he came to having a special education connection with me was when he asked if he could bring a kid to meet with me—“talk,” he said. I agreed and asked about the child. Gene explained that the boy was good at reading, writing, arithmetic, and baseball—but he was not good at getting along with teachers.
When Gene brought the kid to my house one evening, I quickly realized that he was a bright kid who seemed rather sullen—had an “attitude.” I couldn’t be sure whether I was getting a whiff of the child’s personal approach to life or only a (justifiable) response to being dragged off to some old White guy’s house at night. So, I just played it pretty straight. As I recall,1 I told the boy I was just an old professor from the university. I explained that Gene, who was standing right near us (he refused to sit down at the table where we were sitting), told me the kid was pretty good at baseball. I told him I used to play and was a centerfielder. I asked him what position he played. “Catcher. Shortstop.” I asked which position was his favorite. “Shortstop.” I asked why he liked that position. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I dunno.” I asked other questions about baseball batting, his coaches, and etc. One-word answers were still about the best I got. And, I promise, I was exuding as much charm as I could muster.
I switched topics. “Mr. Burton says that you are pretty good at school work.” No reply. “Is it true?”
“Maybe,” with a shrug.
“Do you like reading books?” I asked.
“Maybe…some,” with another shrug.
I pursued that line of questions, just gently probing for an opening. I was pretty well convinced that the boy and I were not going to have much of a conversation. But, I wanted to create an opportunity for additional visits, so I started another line of questions. “Do you know who Jackie Robinson was?”
“Yeah.”
I asked what he knew about Robinson.
“Player…good player.”
“Right!” I still wasn’t getting anywhere, but I hit on a plan. “He was a really good player. Do you know what position he played?”
“No.”
“He was a second base man.” I continued. “But he did a whole lot more than play baseball well. People say he was even better at football than he was at baseball. Wait right here. I’ll be right back.” I left and hustled downstairs to my office, grabbed my copy of Arnold Rampersad’s Jackie Robinson: A Biography, and brought it back to the table.
“If you read this book…and, look…” I said as I sat down. “You’ll find out that Jackie Robinson was a smart man who went to college, and served in the Army, and wouldn’t let a white guy take his seat on a bus.” I ruffled the pages and handed it to the kid, “But, look, this is not a baby book. There are some pictures, but it is a lot of words. It’s an adult book.”
The boy took the book gently. He looked at the cover, turned a few pages and then held it in both hands.
I said, “I’ll be glad to talk with you about the book. You can call me up or come over here. Mr. Burton’s got my number.”
It was clear the “talk” was over. The boy got up to leave. Gene said to him, “Aren’t you going to say, ‘thank you?’” The boy mumbled a “thank you” as he walked to the door. I have never liked talking about children in their presence, so I didn’t want to discuss the meeting with Gene as they left. I just walked out with them and said “Bye” as they got in Gene’s car and drove down the country-dark lane.
I never saw the kid (or the book) again. Gene never brought up the meeting. I figure I was a failure in counseling the child. At the very least, the meeting did not increase how frequently I promoted counseling for children.
I end here with familiar recommendations: Wear your seatbelts (and encourage other passengers in your vehicle to wear them, too). Wash your hands frequently. Watch out for measles outbreaks. Be kind like Gene was. And, of course, teach your children well. ‘Till next time....
JohnL
SET Editor guy
Charlottesville
SET should not be confused with a product with the same name that is published by the Council for Exceptional Children. It predated CEC’s publication by decades. Despite my appreciation for CEC, this product is not affiliated with that organization.
Footnote
I am working from memory here, and my recollections are surely distorted. I con’t warrant that the following that this account is absolute accurate, pristinely perfect, but it’s pretty dang close. If the quotations are not exact, they are close and they flow of the conversation is correct.
I bet all those doc students at UVA would beg to disagree regarding your counseling skills. You were always there for us. Sometimes, just being there is the best form of therapy. You never know what impact you have on folks, including that young boy and students whose lives you touched.