He stops, and I push past him on my beautiful, brand-new wheels, right up to that beautiful, brand-new automatic door that now graces the front of E. L. Pinckney Junior High.

I never in a million years thought I’d quote old Principal Fish, but he got one thing right.

Goes to show what a small community can do when it sets its mind to it.

The door whooshes open, letting out the thump of music, the chatter of voices, and a rush of air that smells like a mash-up of gingerbread, sweat, and peppermint.

I breathe deep, feeling that air on my face.

Then, without even having to slow down or fumble a handle, I lead the way inside.

Author's Note

The right to an education wasn’t always legally protected for students with disabilities in the United States—and still isn’t in many parts of the world. In 1973, Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act was signed into law, becoming the first federal civil rights protection for people with disabilities in this country. But laws don’t always mean immediate change, and the disability community continued to fight for equal rights for years to come—and still does today. In 1977, frustrated with lack of progress, disabled activists and allies staged a four-week sit-in of a federal building in San Francisco to insist that legislators implement the regulations needed to protect the rights of people with disabilities to have fair and equal access to schools, universities, and other areas enjoyed by the public. This demonstration brought people together from many different cultures, economic backgrounds, and ages, united by the common cause of equality regardless of ability. Demonstrations spread to other cities around the country, including Washington, DC, New York, Denver, Boston, Seattle, and many others.

Today students with disabilities in the United States have legally protected rights. Public schools in all fifty states must comply with the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) of 2004, which requires schools to provide a free and equal public education to students of all abilities. Classroom accommodations, specialized instruction, specialist services like physical or occupational therapy, and one-to-one aides are examples of important supports that may be provided for students with additional needs.

But what if help—however well-meaning—becomes less than helpful? In Air, Emmie is confronted with a subtle, often overlooked problem. Individualized educational plans and 504 plans are crucial tools that help many children with disabilities—and their families—have fair and equal access to education. But occasionally, well-intentioned accommodation programs—and those who create them—can inadvertently limit kids more than necessary.

As a pediatric physical therapist, I look at what children who have disabilities can physically do—with or without help—and also when the architecture around them isn’t suited to their needs. Once, while working for a rural school district, I was asked to weigh in on whether a certain junior high student needed a one-to-one aide during the school day. His teachers and the principal felt he did. The student was adamant that he didn’t, while his parents were undecided. I was asked to be the tiebreaker, which led me to consider a complicated question. Was this student fully independent at school with his wheelchair?