California’s Stockton Delta- Forerunners of Educational Equity

Long before Take Your Daughter to Work Day, I accompanied my father, James ‘Jim’ Fitch, to his place of employment- a grand, turn of the century school located in the heart of Stockton known as ‘Old Monroe.’ No longer used to serve students in ‘regular education,’ it would now serve out its final years to birth life-changing educational opportunities for students with special needs.

I stood at the top of Old Monroe’s dramatically steep and magnificent staircase that led up to all of the classrooms. Through five-year-old eyes, I was thrilled by the sight of real-life teenagers entering the building, and approach me as they made their way on to my father’s class.

That one visit to Old Monroe — one of California’s first Special Education schools, sparked my own vocation into the field of Special Education. Over time, it would also spark pride in my home town of Stockton for its pivotal and pioneering role in addressing the academic needs of all of its children, including those with special needs.

Jim, a Math teacher at Edison High School, had been tapped by the Stockton school district’s Superintendent to teach in the District’s newest program, a class designed to serve teenaged students who (in the language of that time), were identified as ‘trainably mentally retarded (TMR).’ In todays terminology, they would have been identified as having Intellectual Disabilities. Some of the students had more recognizable conditions, such as Down Syndrome or Cerebral Palsy. Most, however, had disabilities that originated from unknown causes. These included what the medical community would later recognize as impairments resulting from the enzyme deficiency, Phenylketonuria, the congenital effects of the Rubella virus, or brain inflammation resulting from neuro-immune disorders- conditions easily identified or preventable today.

Stockton’s pioneering Special Education effort had all been started by a group of stalwart and highly determined parents in the early 1950’s. When told by physicians, community leaders, and society in general, that the only ‘sensible’ place for their children with intellectual disabilities was either (a) at home, or (b) a state hospital or other institution hidden away from ‘polite society,’ these parents resolutely demanded (c) something else.

Those forward-looking families wanted for their own children something that was offered to any other child in Stockton: a free and appropriate public education. With inspired foresight, they also demanded that this education be offered to any child with disabilities. Fortunately for succeeding generations of Stockton’s children (and children in other communities that followed their lead), these determined parents would accept no less.

These parents were joined by others in San Joaquin County to ensure that this historically underserved population would receive an equitable education, along with their ‘neurotypical’ peers. Thus, they would ultimately reform the traditional vision of public education. Just a few of those courageous families and leaders to whom Stockton — and all of California- owe a debt of gratitude, include the Don Schrader family, the William Langer family, the Turnbull family, the Carl Schmid family, the Homer Curtis family, State Senator Alan Short, and Roger Walton. Other early supporters of this educational and social equity included the Preeos, the Guadagnolos, the Stewarts, the Takeuchis, the Leo Williams family, the Bledsoes, the Ospitals, the Lims, Ann Trujillo, Fred Miner, Dr. Fran Riggs, Assemblyman John McFall, Ron Tognoli, Don Evans, and a host of precious others.

I hasten to point out, that among the families who fought for this educational equity were some of the area’s most affluent, influential, and ‘well-connected.’ They could have easily had the resources to fund a lovely ‘day school’ (read private) for their own children, and let everybody else’s kids flounder, or take their places at state hospitals. But they didn’t. They chose inclusiveness- for everyone’s children, or no one’s.

There would also have been a few parents too, whose fierce advocacy was drawn from darker places of anguish; melded of what they saw firsthand fleeing the Europe of the early 1940’s. As recent émigrés, they would have had loved ones, or known of others, who had died- solely as the result of being perceived as ‘different.’ In the madness that left humanity’s most mindlessly-blind in charge of who was deemed ‘worthy’ of human life, millions had perished. These included those with actual- or even assumed- disabilities, who under Hitler’s T4 program, were systemically euthanized until 1945. For those who were witness to such ruthless injustice, it would no doubt have ignited a strong determination to do right in their new homeland, fervently resolving to never allow such a thing to happen again.

Personal motivations of these trailblazers may have varied, but they spoke as one in their direct, inclusive, and comprehensive demands. Through a singular, powerful voice, they would essentially become the architects of cradle-to-grave services for individuals with disabilities. Beginning in 1954, San Joaquin County provided funding for classes that served children with ‘mild intellectual disabilities.’ Fast forward to 1960, and these parents and their supporters achieved something that most larger school districts could only dream of. Young people with intellectual and developmental disabilities living in Stockton and surrounding areas, such as Lodi, Ripon, and Tracy, now had access to preschool programs; special education programs (for students 5–18 years of age); and vocational training and sheltered workshops. By 1960, Stockton could boast of a Child Development Center (now Walton Development Center), and an annual day camp that allowed parents respite during the summer, while their children enjoyed outdoor camp activities. Moreover, religious programs were offered for these young people to attend too. One such program was a Saturday afternoon activity program facilitated by Sister Madeleine Hanot, who also spearheaded an overnight camp program (for young people of any-or no-religious affiliation). This annual camp was held at Camp La Honda in the Santa Cruz mountains.

It can’t be emphasized enough how the idea of offering public special education to children identified as “mentally retarded” was radical thinking for its time. When Mrs. Kathryn Clark penned her letter to the Stockton Record in April of 1954 to invite parents to organize on their children’s behalf, it was not exactly the most ‘enlightened’ time of our nation’s history- for any minority in America. Specifically regarding the inclusion of individuals with disabilities, Stockton was far ahead of its time. A mandate for Fair and Appropriate Public Education (FAPE) for all children would not even come about for another 20 years (1975). It would take even longer (1990) for the Americans with Disabilities Act to become law throughout the land. In the meantime, system-wide exclusion of these individuals into most of our nation’s communities meant that the public’s perceptions of them (and of their potential capabilities) were particularly acute, and often fraught with misconceptions. (Think here of the “Lennie” character in Steinbeck’s classic Mice and Men.)

It also can’t be overstated that at its worse, the absence of opportunities to attend a public day school in the home community would leave families with painful choices. Some children were reluctantly sent on to institutions like the State Hospitals, simply because families lacked the resources to provide them with medical or physical care on their own. This would have been especially difficult in the case of a single parent, who would have been unable to take on employment to support the family financially without access to childcare. That said, even children from affluent families would lose out- when the prospect of their child receiving education and care meant that they would be separated from loved ones. The fact that students with disabilities could now attend school- in their home town- would give families the precious option of keeping their child with those who knew them best, while the child received an education tailored to his specific needs. Of course, there would also be greater opportunities for the parent to be involved in their child’s educational program too. The school day would increasingly offer access to specialists, who fostered academic, motor, and language skills, along with social development. Just as importantly, however, it offered the parent, the valuable time needed to take on employment, complete other responsibilities, and take a few moments of healing respite. This provision of outside ‘day care’ (during school hours) was crucial, as across the U.S., mandates for universal childcare, parental leave to care for an ill or disabled family member, or in-home care for those with special needs would continue to remain elusive for many.

Stockton’s enlightened Special Education program was special for another reason — it was far more integrated than what was seen in other sectors of the community. In the 1940’s and 1950’s, Stockton and its surrounding areas tended to mirror other communities of the time, in that, despite having a solid middle-class presence, actual access to services, education, and selection of neighborhood housing opportunities was still heavily influenced by an individual’s race, gender, religion, income level, perceived degree of ‘neurotypicality,’ social connections, and other factors. I recall, for example, that in the most glaring of differences, it could not escape my five-year-old notice that the youngsters who attended this school looked very different from the kids I saw at my local Catholic church and my local public school. Apart from any disability that may have affected their movements, the most obvious difference was in the diversity of the students’ skin colors. Of course, this group of students would have looked different from the largely white children I saw in North Stockton neighborhoods, circa 1960. These students were drawn from (and bussed in from) all of Stockton’s neighborhoods- including ‘redlined’ neighborhoods. I remember too, tagging along with my parents to PTA meetings, and seeing well-dressed parents (ladies in dresses and men in suits) collaborating with one another during meetings, and chatting together afterwards as they sipped refreshments. Over the years, I would recognize these same parents as being active in their Jewish, Buddhist, Christian, and other faith organizations too. Together, they would reflect the religious, ethnic, and economic diversity of the area, all united in a common interest in Special Education.

My father is now in his mid-nineties, and living in the Sierra Nevada Foothills. As we sit together in the sun, he will reminisce fondly over his life. Often, he will reflect back on those sparkling, early days of Special Education in Stockton, where efforts were made to improve everyone’s lot, and where resolute community members would ensure that no child would ever be left behind again. During those groundbreaking years, Mr. Fitch (as he was known by his students) provided both academic instruction and vocational training. He excelled in both. He often noted that his key to success was the parents, whom he admired and “knew their children best.” His students’ parents admired him back- tremendously. Of course, any parent of a beloved child would- seeing their child’s skills and abilities being brought to life by a teacher this gifted, empathetic, and respectful.

Among his many cherished students was a young man who soared to excellence in this nurturing instructional environment. A hard working student with supportive parents and an adoring older sister, Leo revealed himself to be not only an apt academic learner, but a natural leader of others. The young man (now in his seventies) would not only graduate from the program, but go on to become a successful and valued associate at a men’s clothing department. All the while, he never forgot the teacher who had recognized his many gifts and abilities all those years before; writing or calling him for several decades before they would eventually lose touch.

Over sixty years ago this fall, a group of Stockton’s most resolute and unwavering parents, in collaboration with religious leaders, community members, and political leaders, steadfastly fought the ‘good fight’ to ensure that any child in Stockton with disabilities was provided with a free and appropriate public education. In so doing, Stockton and the Delta area would invariably provide the gold standard to which other communities would look to, as they sought to ensure that their children too would be similarly educated and mainstreamed into their communities.

Ultimately, these forerunners of equity would not only move the goalpost for what is fair and just in Education, they would move the bar for doing right and good for humankind itself.

Jamie (Fitch) Candelaria-Greene

Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Mr. Don Schrader; Mr. Tom Whitesides, Principal Roger Walton Center; and to the authors of the wonderful publication, The Arc San Joaquin and Activity Center: A History (n.d., n.p.)