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"By moving special education from the Department of Education to the Department of Health and Human Services, the administration is taking us back to a dark period in American history."
The Trump administration accelerated its assault on the US Education Department on Tuesday by announcing that the agency's work defending civil rights and students with disabilities will be placed under the authority of other federal departments, a move that teachers, Democratic lawmakers, and advocacy organizations condemned as illegal and disastrous for vulnerable children.
Linda McMahon, the billionaire education secretary who has enthusiastically advanced the destruction of her own agency, announced the transfer of the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative Services—which oversees the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act (IDEA)—to the US Department of Health and Human Services, headed by Robert F. Kennedy Jr. Additionally, the Justice Department will oversee the work of the Education Department's Office for Civil Rights, McMahon said, claiming the changes would "break down the bureaucratic barriers and strengthen the coordination of resources to improve programs that serve infants, toddlers, children, and adults."
Critics argued the moves would do the opposite, scattering crucial programs across departments that lack the expertise and resources to fulfill the education offices' mandates, ultimately depriving children and their families of support.
“Moving IDEA out of the Department of Education is not an administrative adjustment—it is an attack on the educational and civil rights foundation of the law," said Becky Pringle, president of the National Education Association. "It would drag us backward by treating disability as a medical issue instead of an educational right and by unraveling decades of progress. The Department of Education is the only federal agency with the expertise, infrastructure, and specialists needed to protect students’ rights and ensure they receive the services they are guaranteed."
"Relocating the Office for Civil Rights to the Department of Justice as part of this scheme would further erode federal oversight and endanger disability-rights enforcement nationwide," Pringle added.
The Arc of the United States, a nonprofit that advocates for the rights of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, said that "moving special education to HHS and civil rights enforcement to DOJ would split apart the offices responsible for making disability rights real in schools, leaving families chasing answers across the federal government instead of getting accountability from one education agency."
"Moving IDEA oversight into HHS pushes students with disabilities toward a medical model, where disability is treated as a diagnosis to manage instead of a natural part of human life," said Katy Neas, the group's CEO. "When that mindset drives education decisions, students are more likely to be segregated, underestimated, or treated as separate from the school community."
"It’s an outrageous betrayal that undoes decades of hard-won progress for students."
The changes that McMahon announced Tuesday are part of the Trump administration's effort to completely dismantle the Education Department, which cannot be legally abolished without congressional approval. The Washington Post noted that the newly targeted offices were among the last Education Department segments to "outsource major functions," underscoring that the administration's assault "has advanced far more than most observers predicted would be possible."
In addition to displacing agency functions, the Trump administration has gutted the Education Department's staff, firing nearly half of its workers in what opponents say is an obvious effort to decimate public education.
Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.), the top Democrat on the House Appropriations Committee, said the transfer of critical functions out of the Education Department is unlawful, "usurping the power of the purse while the Republican majority stands idly by, forfeiting their authority as a co-equal branch of government." DeLauro pointed to language in a 2026 appropriations measure enacted earlier this year that prohibits the Education Department from transferring responsibilities to other federal agencies without congressional approval.
“This is a disgraceful violation of the law," DeLauro said Tuesday. "By moving special education from the Department of Education to the Department of Health and Human Services, the administration is taking us back to a dark period in American history. One where individuals with disabilities were viewed not as whole persons deserving of an education, but as medical patients whose education is not a priority."
The top Democratic appropriator in the Senate, Patty Murray of Washington, warned that "the Trump administration is abandoning kids with disabilities and its most basic legal responsibility to protect the rights of every student in the classroom."
"Instead of helping kids get a great education, this administration is spending its time, energy, and taxpayer resources fixated on where employees sit and illegally trying to shutter the Department of Education," said Murray. "It’s an outrageous betrayal that undoes decades of hard-won progress for students."
Safeguarding the rights of people with disabilities should be a priority for both the scientific and educational communities, and they need to partner with disabled students to get the job done right.
Let’s face it, whether you are a parent or teacher, a school principal or college president, if you care about students with disabilities under your care, then logic dictates you should care about climate change and its impacts on the most vulnerable among us.
In 2025 alone, major climate tragedies, such as Hurricane Melissa’s destruction in Jamaica and Cuba, extreme heatwaves across Europe, and floods in Southeast Asia, demonstrated a new reality for today’s college and K-12 students: We are seeing more extreme weather, and the most vulnerable among us, along with the elderly, are college and K-12 students.
Consider the fact that nearly 240 million children globally manage life with a disability, making them more vulnerable to the impacts of climate change than the general population. They are among the most affected by sudden floods or mudslides; they cannot physically escape without help; they are most harmed by incapacitated roadways and shut-down transportation; and they are most vulnerable when it comes to diminished or defunded healthcare.
As a former public school teacher and a professor, I have witnessed firsthand the inadequacies of our disaster drills for students with disabilities. Some of the daunting questions that flashed through my mind during these drills were: Are school and university emergency shelters accessible to students in wheelchairs? Many communication systems and warning alerts depend on visual and auditory cues. What if a student is deaf and vision impaired?
The need for K-12 climate change education to be disability inclusive runs against the Trump administration’s attempts at dismantling special education.
As an author of two books on climate change and environmental justice education, when our policies and programs do not include disability access, I know we are failing to keep all children and students safe.
The need to provide accessible climate education is especially urgent in light of the recent 50th anniversary of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). For five decades, IDEA has guaranteed every child in the United States a “Free and Appropriate Public Education.” Still, Congress’ promises remain largely unfulfilled, and schools struggle to fund services because they don’t receive adequate federal support.
However, in times of extreme weather, we must ask ourselves whether we are creating curriculum and safety plans that provide information needed to survive a sudden flood or severe heatwave. And we must consider whether our actions meet the letter of the law. A non-inclusive climate education is not just a curriculum gap; it is a violation of civil rights. We must treat students with disabilities as experts who can contribute to climate change action and activism, not just view them as people who need to be saved.
This means co-designing climate change studies with disabled students. A partnership. Co-designing (or redesigning) climate change curriculum offers teachers an excellent opportunity to tackle and overcome building design challenges. For example, students can design and engineer prototypes of multimodal emergency alert systems that can deliver warnings through sound, tactile vibration, and accessible text (such as large fonts or braille). Being intentional and thinking about accessibility throughout the design process benefits all students.
In addition, students can solve problems using a multidisciplinary approach across all subjects.
Students with disabilities can create and engineer prototypes of multimodal emergency alert systems that can deliver warnings through sound, tactile vibration, and accessible text, such as large fonts or braille—designs innovated via students’ life experiences and challenges. When working within the realm of visual color-coded maps meant to indicate levels of pollution or heat, students with eyesight challenges can create tactile, three-dimensional maps in clay or papier-mâché and attach braille labels. Other design solutions needed by disabled students during a climate event include supplying emergency electrical power for medical devices and refrigeration for certain medications, as well as access to emergency evacuation routes.
Furthermore, students with disabilities working on design and safety projects will be in a position to present their findings and projects to the city council, school board, and school PTA to advocate for increased accessibility at their school and in their community.
Researchers have also called on scientists to consider physical and mental ability when developing adaptations and responses to climate change. This provides students with an opportunity to glean from established scientific work to build their own solutions. Safeguarding the rights of people with disabilities should be a priority for both the scientific and educational communities, and they need to partner with disabled students to get the job done right.
The need for K-12 climate change education to be disability inclusive runs against the Trump administration’s attempts at dismantling special education. In fact, Trump’s administration has launched a war on disability, which has included removing the accessibility page and American Sign Language content from the White House website, removing interpreters from across multiple federal agencies, and openly using ableist slurs.
Urge your senators and representatives to support the IDEA Full Funding Act (S. 1277/H.R. 2598), co-sponsored by US Representative Jared Huffman, who represents California’s District 2.
The bill will ensure that Congress funds IDEA at the full 40%. And that means student designers will create a world accessible to everyone.
The real question is not whether Trump is allowed to use degrading language, but whether a president who does so honors the dignity of the office—or hollows it out from within.
When a president uses language that dehumanizes, it is not a matter of legality, it is a matter of dignity, and it signals who our society values. Every utterance from the Oval Office carries weight; it sets norms, authorizes behaviors, and communicates whose humanity is recognized and whose is diminished.
When President Donald Trump referred to Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz using the R-word, defenders rushed in with a familiar refrain: freedom of speech. He can say what he wants. He is protected. End of discussion.
But this is not a freedom-of-speech question. It is a freedom-of-dignity question.
Donald Trump is not a private citizen muttering into the void. He is the most powerful person in the world, speaking through a global amplifier backed by the authority of the presidency. The real question is not whether he is allowed to use degrading language, but whether a president who does so honors the dignity of the office—or hollows it out from within.
A president’s words do more than reveal character; they instruct the nation in who it is permitted to become.
Some defenders argue that only the N-word merits being reduced to an initial, that if Trump wants to use “retarded,” he can—and so can anyone else. They dismiss criticism as cancel culture, another example of Democrats weaponizing political correctness.
This defense is morally hollow. Saying, “Only the N-word counts” is an impoverished standard. Harmful language does not become acceptable simply because it targets a different group. The R-word is not neutral—it has been used for decades to demean, exclude, and dehumanize people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, reducing human beings to a punchline or a flaw.
This is not about partisan loyalty or performative outrage. It is about whether we believe people deserve basic dignity regardless of disability. If you had a child, a sibling, or a close friend with an intellectual or developmental disability, would you really argue that the most powerful person in the country should be excused for using a word that has long diminished their worth? Would that feel like free speech, or like indifference?
Leadership is not only about what one is legally permitted to say. It is about what one chooses to say. Leaders set norms. When they adopt language that punches down, they grant permission for others to follow. Calling that out is not political correctness; it is a minimal ethical expectation of public leadership.
BJ Stasio, a Peer Specialist 2 with the New York State Office for People With Developmental Disabilities, explains:
When national leaders use the R-word casually, it reactivates real harm for people who were once labeled, limited, and underestimated. As someone who has lived with that label—and now leads within the disability rights movement—I know firsthand what the stigma can do.
Nicole LeBlanc, a disability employment consultant and self-advocacy adviser, underscores the emotional and systemic toll:
Seeing the R-word insult return to everyday language is enraging. Many people with autism—especially those diagnosed in adulthood—carry complex trauma histories from bullying and verbal abuse. Research shows they are more likely to be bullied than the general population, leading to high rates of PTSD, anxiety, and other challenges. People with disabilities want respect, love, acceptance, and access to services that allow us to thrive, not just survive. Using hateful language fuels negative attitudes, health disparities, and higher abuse rates. Respect is not optional.
Emauni Crawley, a behavioral health coach and disability advocate, is blunt:
The manner in which Trump articulates the R-word is not a result of ignorance. It is an act of perverseness.
Dr. Gary Schaffer, professor of school psychology, mental health counselor, author, and a person with disabilities, adds historical context:
The R-word is not neutral. It is hate speech, reducing learning and behavioral differences to something laughable and diminishing a person’s value to society. When the president of the United States uses it openly, he gives a green light to discriminate, segregate, and withhold empathy—not only from people with intellectual disabilities, but from anyone with learning or behavioral differences.
This danger is not theoretical. Prior to 1975, many students with disabilities were denied access to education entirely because they were deemed incapable of learning. Language paved the way for policy. It always does.
Max Donatelli, a US Air Force Vietnam veteran, disability advocate, and parent, put it plainly:
The public disrespect shown by this president to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities is unprecedented. Our country deserves better. As a parent and advocate, we have found it challenging to rid our language of the R-word at the local, state, and national levels. We helped New York State end its use of it in the office that administers services to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. What was once the Office for Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities is now the Office for People with Developmental Disabilities, thanks to significant advocacy. Our wonderful son Craig, who has Down syndrome, deserves the respect and opportunities afforded all citizens. The use of this slur is a stain on this presidency that won’t be forgotten by us.
The R-word entered medical and educational usage in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as a supposedly humane replacement for earlier slurs. By the 1960s and 1970s, it had become an everyday insult. Its harm was so widespread that it was removed from professional, legal, and clinical use, replaced by terms such as intellectual disability and developmental disability. Organizations like the Special Olympics have spent decades urging the public to abandon the word entirely.
Trump’s use of it is therefore not accidental, nostalgic, or brave. It is regressive. It communicates that labeling human beings this way is acceptable—even legitimate. Taboos are ethical boundaries. When a president violates them intentionally, the violation instructs.
Words alone are dangerous. When paired with policy, the harm compounds. Rhetoric that degrades, combined with policies that strip protections, sends a clear message about whose lives are valued and whose are negotiable. Programs like SOAR, which helped people with severe mental health challenges access Social Security benefits and provided housing, healthcare, and stability. Cutting them leaves people exposed. The erosion of special education, weakening of Americans with Disabilities Act guidance, and refusal to provide real-time American Sign Language interpretation at White House events send the same message: Accessibility is optional; inclusion is an inconvenience.
Harm becomes systemic not all at once, but sentence by sentence, joke by joke, policy memo by policy memo. The erosion of dignity rarely announces itself as violence. It begins as permission—to mock, dismiss, reduce. When that permission comes from the highest office in the land, it spreads.
This is not about fragility. It is about responsibility. A president’s words do more than reveal character; they instruct the nation in who it is permitted to become. When language degrades and protections are hollowed out, dignity ceases to be shared and becomes a privilege rationed by power.
The question is no longer whether such language is legal. It is whether we will accept a politics that treats some people’s humanity as expendable, and whether we will recognize, before it spreads further, that a nation willing to bargain away dignity at the margins will eventually find it gone at the center.