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MIDLAND — In early September, about two weeks after school started, Daniela and Alfredo Santos got a call from Midland Independent School District’s Special Education Director Lynda Rhodes.
The Midland school district was investigating reports of abuse at the school that involved their 4-year-old daughter and her classmates, all of whom have special needs and live with disabilities. The students’ instructors had allegedly restrained them to their chairs for longer than they should have, district officials told them.
The unsettling scenes were caught on camera and revealed details district officials omitted in earlier phone calls, the parents said, declining to elaborate further due to a non-disclosure agreement the district made them sign before viewing the video.
“My child was screaming like crazy, crying. You can tell she needed help,” Daniela Santos said in her first public interview with The Texas Tribune. “And no one helped her.”
In the wake of the investigation, six teachers have resigned. And earlier this week, the school board also fired Cynthia Rodriguez, the school’s principal, over the abuse allegations. District officials have maintained they took the appropriate steps when they learned of the incidents in reporting the issue to the state.
Meanwhile, advocates for students with disabilities say the decade-old law that put cameras in classrooms with special needs to prevent such abuse must be revisited. That includes the state lawmaker who wrote the law.
Several of the families have demanded that the teachers be prosecuted. However, the district’s attorney told parents there wasn’t enough evidence to criminally charge the instructors. Fifteen families have taken matters into their own hands, suing the district for $500,000 for each student.
The lawsuit alleges that the district ignored “evidence of abuse” captured by cameras in the classroom, and “knowingly failed to report this abuse and neglect.”
“The truth is simple: the [Midland Independent School District] put vulnerable children in the hands of predators, looked away as the abuse happened, betrayed every parent who trusted it with their children, and failed to obey the law and report this abuse in a timely manner,” the lawsuit says.
Midland ISD officials have said they referred the matter to multiple state agencies. And in one of several public statements, they said they were taking steps to ensure it doesn’t happen again.
The Midland Independent School District administration building in downtown Midland on Tuesday.
Credit:
Rikki Delgado for The Texas Tribune
“The Special Services Department has carefully reviewed preventive measures and is developing a comprehensive plan of action to prevent an incident like this from happening in any of our specialized classrooms in the future,” the district posted on its Facebook page in mid-September.
In Texas, schools must report when an instructor restrains a student.
Advocates for children with disabilities, using state data, have found instances of school districts underreporting the use of physical restraints. Often, educators resort to restraining students when it is unnecessary, advocates said. And while state law requires cameras in such classrooms, footage is not allowed to be reviewed in real time.
“That’s a big gap in the law,” said Colleen Potts, a supervising attorney at Disability Rights Texas. “It’s really difficult for these parents to access that video footage for the purpose that the law was really intended.”
A spokesperson for the Texas Education Agency said they had received a complaint regarding the district’s special education program. It would determine whether any additional steps on the agency’s part are necessary.
The Midland school district reported one instance of a student restraint as of 2022, according to the state’s records. The instructor said the student had attempted to bite a classmate. The instructor picked up the student and moved her to another classroom, which counts as restraint.
“It’s just our worst nightmare”
Daniela Santos said she trusted the school to help her daughter, who is autistic and nonverbal, learn basic every day tasks, like using the restroom or learning how to use utensils to eat.
That’s why when her daughter returned home with a scrape on her chin, she believed the instructor who told her it happened on the playground.
Three weeks later, another mark appeared on her face. This time, the instructor said the child had been picking her face, something she doesn’t do regularly. Then there were scratches on her belly. Again, the instructor said the marks were self-inflicted.
Daniela Santos said she thought it was roughhousing among kids, but the instructor insisted it was the child’s own doing.
“At the time, it feels like someone like that in the position of authority, you’re inclined to believe them,” Daniela Santos said. “You just trust them because that was her teacher. We really thought they were good teachers because of the way they presented themselves, and they responded right away.”
“You don’t even want your kid to go out there, but they have to eventually,” she said. “Can I trust them? And for it to happen, it’s just mind-blowing. Why them? You should have the most patience possible working with these children, because that’s what it’s about. It was just our worst nightmare.”
Daniela Santos displays some arts and crafts made by their 4-year-old daughter, who especially enjoys painting ceramic figures.
Credit:
Rikki Delgado for The Texas Tribune
Life skills classes, like the one Daniela Santos’ daughter is enrolled in, help students who are diagnosed with a severe developmental disability. They help with communication, socializing and self-care, including feeding, dressing, and learning to use the restroom. The goal is to teach students to live as independently as possible, said David DeMatthews, a professor at UT-Austin College of Education. Students start as early as four and last there until they turn 21.
School districts determine how special education courses are taught and must comply with the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, a federal law. In the classroom, there should be one special education instructor with at least two aids, DeMatthews said.
Texas has a dearth of qualified special education teachers, DeMatthews said. And the instructors the state does find are often unequipped to decide when to use restraints.
“We have massive workforce problems in our public schools,” he said. “I would just be very doubtful that people are appropriately trained in specific areas when this historically has just been a problem.”
Eddie Lucio, a retired state senator from Brownsville, authored the bill requiring cameras in classrooms where at least half of the students have been diagnosed with severe developmental disabilities. The purpose of the bill, he said, was to monitor bullying or abuse. He added that it could also protect teachers and other school staff from false accusations.
Speaking to The Texas Tribune, Lucio could not recall why his bill also prohibited the school district from regularly monitoring the footage. He said he would support efforts to check whether lawmakers should update the bill.
“I certainly want to support any effort that will make it better,” Lucio said.
When Daniela and Alfredo Santos asked to see footage of the alleged abuse, the district refused to show them without having them sign non-disclosure agreements first.
Desperate, the families signed.
The Tribune reviewed a copy of the agreement, which prohibited photographs, video or screen recording of the footage. In signing, the families agreed not to post, publish, or distribute any description or commentary about the recordings publicly, including on social media. Lawyers for the family say they will challenge the agreement if the district takes action for the families going public.
Potts, the disability attorney, said an NDA of this kind was “unheard of.”
“The non-disclosure agreement is really not appropriate,” she said. “You can’t just not report abuse because you sign an NDA.”
“Who’s going to speak up for her?”
After the Midland ISD bus drops her off at their home, Alfredo Santos carries their daughter while Daniela Santos holds her daughter’s backpack, her book and her daily stuffed animal of choice.
Credit:
Rikki Delgado for The Texas Tribune
On Monday, Daniela and Alfredo Santos stood outside their double-wide trailer home south of Midland, waiting anxiously for the school bus’s 3:30 p.m. drop off. Their daughter, who has since returned to school, had slept through most of the ride.
Daniela Santos said she sent her back so her daughter could continue her life skills classes. A new teacher has been assigned, and sends families daily text messages updating them on the day’s lessons. It’s barely enough to restore trust for Daniela, who applied to volunteer her time supervising the classroom. She has recurring nightmares of the previous instructor shushing her before she jolts awake, fueling her worries.
Every morning, she scans her daughter for new marks or injuries. If she spots one, she takes a photo to recheck it when she returns in the afternoon. High chairs, which their daughter used to love, now cause panic attacks.
Alfredo Santos, on the other hand, does not trust the district. But he supports his wife’s decision to send their daughter back, believing it’s what’s best for her. And had he known that parents were in some cases entitled to camera footage, he would have asked earlier.
On this, they agree: they are not afraid if district officials attempt to enforce the NDA.
“I just want to speak up for my daughter,” Alfredo Santos said. “If she can’t talk, and they’re trying to silence us, who’s going to speak up for her?”
After the school bus drops her off, Daniela Santos and her daughter walk hand in hand towards their home.
Credit:
Rikki Delgado for The Texas Tribune
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