Emotional Disability or Systemic Failure? Unmasking the Real Issues in California's Schools
As an autistic special education teacher in Los Angeles, I’ve watched with interest as California recently passed a law allowing the term “emotional disability” to replace “emotional disturbance” in special education services. This change, set to take effect in January 2025, is touted as a step towards destigmatising mental health challenges among students. Whilst I appreciate the intent behind this shift in language, my experiences in the classroom—particularly in special day programmes and extended school year settings—have led me to a sobering conclusion. This well-meaning alteration in terminology serves as little more than a distraction from the pressing, systemic issues that plague our special education system. From the disproportionate representation of African American students in emotional disability categories to the alarming closure of specialised programmes, and the insidious school-to-prison pipeline, we face challenges that run far deeper than the words we use to describe them. As we examine this change, we must ask ourselves: are we truly addressing the needs of our most vulnerable students, or are we simply repackaging old problems in new language?
The Current Landscape
The landscape of emotional disability (ED) in California’s special education system is complex and troubling. ED, one of 13 categories under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, encompasses a range of mental health challenges, from anxiety disorders to ‘conduct issues.’ In the 2022-23 school year, approximately 4% of students receiving special education services nationwide fell under this category (National Center for Education Statistics, 2024). However, the distribution is far from equitable. African American students are significantly overrepresented, with nearly two-thirds of California’s Special Education Local Planning Areas showing disproportionate numbers of Black students in specific learning disability programmes, a trend that extends to ED classifications (Wright & Santa Cruz, 1983).
My experiences in Los Angeles’s special day programmes and extended school year classes have brought these statistics to life. I’ve witnessed firsthand the struggles of students grappling not only with their emotional challenges but also with a system ill-equipped to support them fully. The recent closure of many specialised programmes has left a void, pushing students into mainstream settings without adequate support. This shift, whilst ostensibly promoting inclusion, often results in these vulnerable students feeling more isolated than ever. The consequences are stark: higher dropout rates and an increased likelihood of disciplinary action for African American students with ED (Osher et al., 2003). As I reflect on my summers teaching extended school year classes, I’m struck by the resilience of these students in the face of systemic failures, and the urgent need for reform that goes beyond mere terminology.
The Terminology Debate
The shift from “emotional disturbance” to “emotional disability” in California’s legislation has sparked considerable debate. Proponents argue that this change will help destigmatise mental health challenges among students. Assemblymember Dawn Addis, the bill's sponsor, asserts that the new term is “much more appropriate” and will increase access to vital services. Supporters believe that softer language might encourage more families to seek help, potentially leading to earlier interventions and better outcomes.
However, viewed through the lens of the Power Threat Meaning Framework (PTMF), this terminological shift appears superficial at best. This framework, which emphasises the impact of power imbalances and life experiences on mental health, suggests that merely changing labels does little to address the core issues. Whether we call it a “disturbance” or a “disability,” we're still pathologising responses to adversity and inequality. The real challenge lies in understanding and addressing the power dynamics, threats, and meanings that shape students’ emotional experiences. By focusing on terminology, we risk overlooking the systemic inequities, trauma, and societal pressures that often underpin these challenges. True progress requires a fundamental reimagining of how we conceptualise and support emotional well-being in our education system, not just a cosmetic change in language.
Disproportionate Representation
The overrepresentation of African American students in emotional disability categories is a glaring issue in California’s special education system. Research indicates that Black students are disproportionately represented in special education programmes, including those for ‘serious emotional disturbance’ (SED). In California, this overrepresentation is evident in nearly two-thirds of the state's Special Education Local Planning Areas (Wright & Santa Cruz, 1983). This disparity isn’t merely a matter of numbers; it reflects deeply entrenched systemic biases and societal inequities.
Several factors contribute to this overrepresentation. Implicit biases among educators and administrators can lead to misinterpretation of cultural differences as behavioural issues. Socioeconomic disparities, which disproportionately affect African American communities, often result in reduced access to early intervention and mental health support. Moreover, the trauma induced by systemic racism can manifest in ways that are misdiagnosed as emotional disabilities.
The impact on students’ educational experiences and outcomes is profound. African American students with or at risk for emotional and behavioural disorders face higher dropout rates and are more likely to be pushed out of school compared to their peers (Osher et al., 2003). This academic marginalisation is compounded by inconsistent application of best practices in IEPs, with disability and ethnicity influencing the probability of an IEP being compliant (Landmark & Zhang, 2013). Consequently, these students often receive inadequate support, leading to a cycle of academic struggles, disciplinary actions, and diminished future prospects. This pattern not only perpetuates educational inequities but also feeds into the broader societal issues of systemic racism and economic disparity.
The Decline of Specialised Programs
The landscape of special education in California has undergone a significant shift in recent years, marked by a move towards inclusion models and the consequent closure of specialised programmes. This trend, while ostensibly aimed at promoting integration, has had profound implications for students with emotional disabilities (ED) or emotional and behavioural disorders (EBD).
The closure of Special Day Programmes (SDPs) for students with ED/EBD is particularly concerning. In my own district, I witnessed firsthand the abrupt closure of an SDP for students with moderate to severe ED/EBD. Without explanation, these students were placed in my mild/moderate SDP class, alongside autistic students and those with specific learning disabilities, other health impairments, and intellectual disabilities. This sudden integration, devoid of proper planning or resources, exemplifies a broader trend noted by researchers.
Such closures are often driven by a combination of factors: a push towards inclusion, budget constraints, and sometimes, a misunderstanding of students’ needs. The inappropriate placement of students with ED/EBD in other special education categories, such as learning disabilities, further contributes to the reduction of specialised programmes.
The consequences for students with ED/EBD are severe. Without access to specialised support, many struggle in mainstream or mixed special education settings. The shift in California’s law returning responsibility for mental health-related services to local education agencies has further impacted the quality and consistency of available services (Weinberg et al., 2019). For many students, this results in inadequate support, increased behavioural incidents, and poorer academic outcomes. The loss of tailored interventions and strategies specific to ED/EBD can exacerbate emotional challenges, potentially leading to increased disciplinary actions and feeding into the school-to-prison pipeline.
This decline in specialised programmes underscores a troubling disconnect between policy decisions and the practical needs of our most vulnerable students.
The School-to-Prison Pipeline
The school-to-prison pipeline is a disturbing phenomenon wherein educational policies and practices push students out of schools and into the criminal justice system. This pipeline disproportionately affects students of colour, those with disabilities, and particularly those with emotional and behavioural disorders (EBD).
In the realm of special education, certain practices inadvertently—or perhaps by design—contribute to this pipeline. The closure of specialised programmes and the push of students with EBD into unsupportive mainstream environments often leads to increased behavioural incidents, suspensions, and expulsions. These disciplinary actions can mark the beginning of a student’s trajectory towards the criminal justice system.
The connection between this educational failure and the prison system is deeply troubling, especially when viewed through the lens of the 13th Amendment's Exclusion Clause. This clause, which allows for involuntary servitude as punishment for crime, has been exploited to create a system of prison labour that benefits both the state and private corporations. In California, where prison labour is extensively used, one cannot help but question whether the systemic failures in supporting students with EBD are entirely accidental.
The trend of pushing these vulnerable students into relatively unsupportive spaces, coupled with the state’s reliance on prison labour, paints a disturbing picture. It suggests a system that, whether by neglect or design, funnels certain students towards incarceration. The overrepresentation of African American students in both special education and the prison system further underscores this connection.
As educators, we must confront the possibility that our current special education practices, far from supporting our most vulnerable students, may be serving a more insidious purpose: preparing a future workforce for a system that profits from incarceration. This realisation demands not just a change in terminology or educational practices, but a fundamental re-evaluation of our societal structures and priorities.
Systemic Issues in IEP Implementation
The implementation of IEPs is fraught with systemic issues that often undermine their intended purpose. Research indicates significant variability in compliance and adherence to best practices, with disability type and ethnicity influencing the likelihood of an IEP meeting legal standards (Landmark & Zhang, 2013). This inconsistency can result in inadequate support for students, particularly those from marginalised communities.
Socioeconomic factors play a crucial role in these disparities. Families with fewer resources may struggle to advocate effectively for their children, leading to substandard IEPs. Moreover, schools in underfunded districts often lack the resources to fully implement IEP recommendations, creating a gap between prescribed and delivered services.
As a teacher, I’ve witnessed these challenges firsthand. However, perhaps the most disturbing aspect is the potential misuse of special education records in juvenile justice proceedings. This creates a perverse incentive for some parents to refuse necessary educational supports for their children, fearing that the paper trail of an IEP might be weaponised against them in future legal situations. I’ve seen families grapple with this impossible choice: accept support that might stigmatise their child or forgo assistance to hopefully protect their future.
This misuse of educational records not only violates the spirit of special education but also perpetuates a cycle of disadvantage. It forces vulnerable families to choose between immediate educational support and long-term legal protection, a choice no parent should have to make. The fact that our system allows, and even encourages, such practices speaks volumes about its fundamental flaws.
The Bigger Picture: Beyond Education
To truly understand the challenges facing students with emotional disabilities, we must zoom out and examine the broader societal context through the lens of the Power Threat Meaning Framework (PTMF). This approach encourages us to consider how power imbalances, threats to our wellbeing, and the meaning we make of our experiences shape our emotional responses and behaviours.
In the context of our education system, the power dynamics are stark. Systemic racism, deeply entrenched in our institutions, creates an environment where African American students are more likely to be labelled with emotional disabilities, face harsher disciplinary measures, and ultimately be pushed out of schools. This is not merely an educational issue, but a reflection of broader societal power structures that perpetuate inequality.
Capitalism, with its relentless pursuit of growth and profit, intersects with these educational policies in disturbing ways. The push for ever-increasing returns has led wealthy corporations to seek out prison labour as a means of keeping costs down. This demand for cheap labour creates a perverse incentive within our society to maintain a steady flow of individuals into the prison system.
California provides a stark example of this intersection between education, capitalism, and the prison system. The state relies heavily on prison labour to combat its frequent wildfires, with incarcerated individuals risking their lives for pennies an hour. The cruel irony is that these same individuals, upon release, are barred from joining professional fire departments due to their criminal records. This cycle perpetuates a system where individuals are exploited for their labour whilst incarcerated, then denied legitimate employment opportunities upon release.
Educational policies, particularly those affecting students with emotional disabilities, play a crucial role in this cycle. The closure of specialised programmes, the overrepresentation of African American students in certain special education categories, and the school-to-prison pipeline all feed into this larger system of exploitation.
Viewed through the PTMF, we can see how these societal structures create significant threats to the wellbeing of vulnerable students. The power imbalances inherent in our education and justice systems, coupled with the threat of future incarceration and exploitation, create a context of ongoing stress and trauma. Students’ emotional and behavioural responses, which may be labelled as “disabilities,” can often be understood as adaptive responses to these threatening circumstances.
Moreover, the meaning that students and families make of these experiences – of being labelled, of facing harsher discipline, of seeing limited future prospects – can profoundly shape their identities and life trajectories. When a student internalises the message that they are “disturbed” or “disabled,” or when a family feels compelled to refuse educational support to protect their child’s future, we see the harmful effects of these systemic issues at a deeply personal level.
In this light, the change in terminology from “emotional disturbance” to “emotional disability” appears not just insufficient, but potentially harmful. It maintains a focus on individual pathology rather than addressing the systemic issues that create and perpetuate emotional distress. True change requires a fundamental reimagining of our educational, economic, and justice systems – one that prioritises human wellbeing over profit and recognises the profound impact of societal structures on individual lives.
Final thoughts …
The change from “emotional disturbance” to “emotional disability” in California’s legislation is a superficial fix for a deeply rooted problem. Whilst well-intentioned, it fails to address the systemic issues that perpetuate inequality and injustice in our education and criminal justice systems.
True reform must be far-reaching and substantive. We need to start by educating the public about the 13th Amendment’s Exception Clause - a provision unknown to most Americans, yet instrumental in perpetuating a system of prison labour that many tacitly accept. We must push for its repeal and for changes to state constitutions that allow similar exploitation.
In education, we need increased funding for specialised programmes, better training for educators, and a shift away from punitive measures that feed the school-to-prison pipeline. We must also address the broader societal issues, challenging the capitalist structures that profit from the marginalisation of vulnerable populations.
As human beings, we have a responsibility to advocate for these changes. Engage with local school boards, write to legislators, and support organisations working to dismantle these oppressive systems. Educate others about the Exception Clause and its modern-day implications. Challenge the normalisation of prison labour in our society.
Remember, the issues facing students with emotional disabilities are not isolated problems, but symptoms of larger systemic injustices. By addressing these root causes, we can create a more equitable and just society for all. The time for superficial changes has long passed. Now is the moment for bold, transformative action. Our students, and our society, deserve nothing less.