When my son was in third grade, he had a swimming unit at school. One afternoon, as I unpacked his backpack, I noticed his swimsuit and towel were dry. “Didn’t you swim today?” I asked. “I wasn’t allowed to go,” he told me solemnly. “A teacher needs to come with me because I have bad behavior. And today, there wasn’t an extra teacher available.” His words sent a chill up my spine.

My son is autistic. He is sweet, gentle, and deeply affectionate. He possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of music and an uncanny ability to remember names, stories, and long stretches of movie dialogue. He has a rich inner world and can immerse himself in imaginative play for hours. Like many autistic individuals, he can become dysregulated when overwhelmed and may seek sensory input—chewing on objects or asking for tight hugs—to help his body feel calm and safe. These are not “bad behaviors”; they are human responses to sensory overload.

The exclusion from a simple swimming lesson was shocking and deeply upsetting. I immediately contacted the principal, who promised to investigate. We soon learned that a swim instructor had deemed my son a “safety risk,” reporting that he had been “unresponsive to instruction” and had an “outburst” on the pool deck the previous week. However, what the instructor described as an “outburst” was actually stimming—my son’s way of self-regulating in a loud, chaotic environment. What appeared as “unresponsiveness” could have been a lack of eye contact, inattention to a non-preferred activity, or the additional processing time he requires—all common characteristics of autism. It remains unclear why my son was specifically labeled a safety risk, especially given his prior swimming experience and understanding of water safety. It is more likely that the issue stemmed from the instructor’s lack of understanding of autism or their unwillingness to accommodate a child who presented differently.

Ensuring Equal Access: A Principal’s Decisive Action

Fortunately, the principal responded quickly and decisively. In written guidance to staff, he affirmed that my son’s Individualized Education Plan (IEP) guaranteed him equal access to all school programming. He made it clear that my son could not be excluded from swimming simply because additional support was not readily available. The principal outlined strategies to ensure my son’s participation and even offered to accompany the class himself to guarantee his inclusion.

While this specific incident was resolved positively, it served as a stark and persistent reminder of how easily and routinely exclusion can occur and how vulnerable children with disabilities, particularly autistic children, are to discrimination within educational settings.

The Broader Landscape of Discrimination in Schools

The experience of exclusion, even when temporary, highlights a persistent issue faced by autistic students in schools across the nation. Many are denied assistive technology crucial for communication and learning. Others are segregated from general education classrooms, often labeled as “disruptive” without adequate consideration for underlying needs. A significant concern is the disproportionate disciplinary actions taken against students for behaviors directly linked to their disability, such as stimming, or their reactions to sensory overload, stress, or social demands. In the most extreme cases, students with disabilities, especially autistic students and students of color, are disproportionately subjected to restraint and seclusion, practices that can inflict deep trauma.

While some of these issues can be resolved through direct communication with school and district personnel, many families find themselves compelled to escalate their concerns. This often involves filing complaints at state or federal levels to ensure their children’s fundamental rights to education are protected.

The Undermining of Civil Rights Enforcement

This is precisely why the current state of affairs concerning the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights (OCR) is so alarming. The OCR is the primary federal agency tasked with enforcing disability rights laws, including Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, serving as a critical recourse for families when schools deny children equal access to education.

However, recent efforts to dismantle the Department of Education have severely weakened this enforcement capacity. The administration shuttered seven of the DOE’s twelve regional civil rights offices, dismissed over half of its personnel, and then placed those staff members on leave when the firings were blocked by the courts. Consequently, the agency has been significantly hobbled, rendering it unable to effectively investigate allegations of discrimination. A recent Government Accountability Office (GAO) report corroborated these concerns, finding that the OCR dismissed approximately 90 percent of the 9,000 complaints it received between March and September 2025. This raises serious questions about whether many cases were ever thoroughly reviewed.

The Erosion of Security and the Call to Action

The erosion of this vital federal oversight has profound implications for families. No parent wishes to navigate the complex and often adversarial process of filing a civil rights complaint. Their primary desire is for their children to learn, grow, and belong in inclusive educational environments that meet their unique needs. The existence of a federal office charged with holding schools and districts accountable provides a crucial sense of security. It empowers parents to advocate for their children, knowing they are not entirely alone and that there is a possibility of fairness when local systems fail. This federal recourse is essential for students who have been wronged.

As enforcement capabilities weaken, anxiety grows, not just for individual families but for the countless children whose parents may lack the time, knowledge, or resources to fight these battles independently. The responsibility to ensure a child’s rights cannot rest solely on the shoulders of one parent.

Acceptance is Action: Beyond Awareness

April marks Autism Acceptance Month, a time dedicated to celebrating neurodiversity and fostering understanding and inclusion. However, true acceptance extends beyond awareness campaigns and kind words. It is fundamentally rooted in the right of every child to access education, receive appropriate support, and be free from discrimination. Without robust enforcement mechanisms, these rights remain mere promises on paper.

The Department of Education’s ability to uphold students’ civil rights is what transforms these promises into tangible realities. A strong, well-functioning Office for Civil Rights is indispensable for genuine autism acceptance, not only for my son but for millions of children like him.

This underscores the critical role that all members of society—policymakers, parents, caregivers, and community members alike—must play. Advocating for full funding and staffing for the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights through direct engagement with representatives is paramount. Schools must be held accountable with concrete questions about how autistic students and all students with disabilities are included in every activity, how behaviors are understood and supported rather than punished, and whether accommodations outlined in IEPs and 504 plans are being fully honored. When children are excluded or denied access, it is imperative to insist that schools take corrective action. This involves requesting meetings with staff, meticulously documenting issues, and, when necessary, filing complaints to ensure rights are protected.

Many parents of autistic children are already actively engaged in these efforts. However, a broader coalition of parents—of autistic and neurotypical children alike—is needed, linking arms in solidarity. Autism acceptance is not merely a slogan or a fleeting celebration; it is a steadfast commitment to action. It is a commitment to ensuring that no child is left on the sidelines, watching their peers participate, simply because the adults responsible for their education failed to understand, support, or include them. Our children depend on us to do more than simply accept them; they depend on us to champion their rights, their dignity, and their right to schools that see, support, and include them.