At this school, autism is another word for normal

Supporters and experts say Tapestry may well be the first middle school of its kind in the nation, and they hope it can survive the financial and other challenges that new charter schools invariably face. The school is addressing the alarming increase in the incidence of autism, a developmental disorder that impairs social interaction. One in 68 children were diagnosed with autism in 2010, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, more than double the rate of a decade earlier.

State officials confirm there is no charter school like it in Georgia. The DeKalb school board approved Tapestry’s charter petition late last year after district administrators gave their support. Jose Boza, who oversees charter schools for the district, said Tapestry took the concept of including autistic children in the mainstream classroom to an unusual, “very deep” level.

Traditional public schools, particularly in Georgia, try to integrate special-needs students into the general classroom, but have diminishing success after the primary grades. Middle schools, usually big and bustling, can bring sensory overload. And the herd mentality of budding teenagers insecure with their own identities can lead to rejection.

“It’s a very difficult time not to be typical,” said Blythe Corbett, an assistant professor of psychiatry at Vanderbilt University and expert on autism.

Those who cannot cope can get closeted away in special classrooms, which can stifle their emotional and academic growth. But Corbett said “neurotypical” children — kids without autism — also lose something when they are cut off from people who don’t fit the typical mold.

She said Tapestry could become a national model with its plan to use novel therapies to bring kids together. For instance, Alliance Theatre will help operate a drama program for the students. Corbett has studied a theater program in Nashville that mixed teens with and without autism. Both groups learned how to handle difficult behavior in others and re-direct their own emotions, she said. “It’s going to benefit not only the children with autism but also the typically developing children.”

The school, built in a wing rented from a Baptist church on Chamblee Tucker Road, caters to autistic children by calming the physical environment. Fluorescent lights are turned off, the classrooms lit instead by strings of holiday bulbs. Overcharged children can escape to two specially-equipped “sensory” rooms. One that some kids have dubbed the “Zen” room has cozy chairs, a soundtrack and a bubble lamp that emits vibrant hues when the overhead lights are off. Another, the “crazy” room or the “chaos” room, has swings.

Outbursts are commonplace. “It was about that stupid video,” one boy was yelling on a recent afternoon, as a teacher talked softly with him outside a classroom. A mother who accompanied another boy on the first day of school was trying to calm him as he slapped the hallway’s concrete block walls. “Let’s get mom’s laptop and let’s go to the sensory room,” she told him.

Tapestry was overwhelmed with applicants and had to hold a lottery. The waiting list for sixth grade is about a hundred students long.

Laurie Hobbs got her son in. He does not have autism and was doing fine on the gifted track at Henderson Middle, but Hobbs felt he was ignored there by teachers with too many students. She was drawn in part by Tapestry’s tiny class sizes, made possible by a special education subsidy. DeKalb passes along federal, state and local funding, and each autistic child draws a couple thousand dollars more than general education students, school officials said. Thus, Tapestry can provide one teacher per eight students in core subjects, a ratio that is rare in traditional schools.

Hobbs also felt her son would learn more empathy and other social skills. “I want him to be able to see people and their strengths and not be intimidated by weaknesses,” she said. He was enthusiastic after the first day of school. The teachers obviously wanted to be there, he told her: “Mommy: this school is amazing.”

There are challenges ahead. To keep its charter, Tapestry will eventually have to outperform the district on statewide tests. It will also have to maintain a stable board and leadership. Principal Amanda Chilvers has a mix of veteran and newly-minted teachers, with thin administrative support. The all-hands-on-deck needs of a startup school can wear on people.

Tapestry could also become a victim of its own success: The money for that crucial ingredient, small classes, isn’t guaranteed, and the school’s popularity, ironically, could hinder it. Under current law, charter schools must take all comers up to their capacity. If too many children without autism win admission, it could cut deeply into the special education funding.

That’s among the many worries for Tonna Harris-Bosselmann who became a co-founder of the school with Christopher. Her son, who has autism, was segregated from the mainstream classrooms at Henderson Middle, which clearly took a toll on her. He’s in eighth grade, and Harris-Bosselmann hopes there will be continued interest in Tapestry as students age into their teens. The big public high schools may tempt away some with their sports teams and other extracurricular activities. She hopes to have teams, too, or to negotiate with the county so Tapestry students can be included. She wants her school to grow to the ninth grade and beyond, then to endure and become a beacon of change in education.

“We don’t have restaurants for special-needs people, and restaurants for typically developing people. I mean, thank God we don’t have restrooms for each,” she said. “Why should we have classrooms like that?”