Little Boy Is the Subject of Big Debate : Schools: O.C.’s Jimmy Peters case tests special education students’ right to ‘mainstream’ classes.

Unlike most 6-year-olds, Jimmy Peters rarely smiles enough to show the space where his two front teeth should be.

When the teacher called roll in his kindergarten classroom at Circle View Elementary School last year, the youngster often did not respond to his own name.

While other children listened to stories or drew pictures, Jimmy sat to the side of his classroom monitored full-time by an aide. His classmates eventually grew inured to daily disruptions as Jimmy scampered around the room crying, anxiously clutching toys or waving his arms until an adult forced him back to his seat.

Ultimately, the outbursts turned violent: Court records show Jimmy allegedly struck other students and staff, and bit his teacher.

“As the year progressed, it became more and more difficult,” said parent volunteer Judy Chan. “If he didn’t want to do something, he couldn’t sit there and just say ‘No.’ His way of protesting was just to cry and make noises rather loudly. They would have to separate him somewhat so in case he had a tantrum his kicking or his flailing would not injure other kids.

“I feel sorry for him, actually.”

Court documents, school records and interviews with family members, experts and people who know James Daniel Peters IV reveal him as a troubled child thrust into the center of a fierce conflict between the Ocean View School District and his zealous father, a tussle that has made him an unwitting symbol in the debate over special education.

Jimmy, who suffers from a communications disorder of disputed severity, gained national attention in May when the school district took the last-ditch step of going to court to oust him from his mainstream kindergarten class.

A judge sent him back to class--ruling the district had not proved Jimmy was a serious danger to himself or others--where he was greeted by sign-waving parents who said their children’s education and safety were compromised by Jimmy’s presence.

Jimmy is just one of about 10,000 special education students in Orange County, and 1 million nationwide, who spend most of their school hours in mainstream classrooms. As the popularity of this program, typically called “full inclusion,” has grown over the past five years, schools have at times struggled to control the learning environment.

All students, whether they suffer from minor learning disabilities, severe mental retardation or serious physical problems, are candidates for inclusion. Legally, schools cannot transfer a special education student without parental permission.

In a handful of similar cases across the country, courts have sided with parents who want their children mainstreamed over schools that have tried to remove them.

“Sometimes (inclusion) can work and sometimes it can’t,” said Justine Maloney of the Learning Disabilities Assn., a Pittsburgh-based parent support group with 60,000 members. “To say that all children belong in the regular classroom is as much a violation as it is to say that some children do not belong in a regular classroom. It’s about the needs of an individual.”

And so, the controversy over Jimmy turns on his needs--and his behavior. The court documents, school records and interviews provide the most detailed portrait to date of the boy’s short, difficult life and his wrangles with the school system.

Jimmy’s father, Jim Peters, who contends the school system’s action against his son is in retaliation for his activism on behalf of special-education students, declined to be interviewed at length for this story. In previous interviews, Peters and some parents of Jimmy’s classmates have denied that his son presents a threat and said that, other than his communications difficulty, Jimmy is an ordinary kindergartner.

Nicki Astinas, whose son was in Jimmy’s class last year, said in a declaration filed in connection with the district’s lawsuit that she had “never seen Jimmy being aggressive or assaultive.” And Deborah Hoops, who has worked with Peters on special-education issues, said she has “no fear of either of my children being with Jimmy.”

“He has never thrown anything (other than a ball) in my presence,” Hoops said in her court statement. “He has never bitten, spit at, or hit anyone in my presence.”

Peters, Jimmy’s grandfather and the boy’s aunt said Jimmy’s development problems first surfaced at about age 2, when he struggled to hear and did not speak. He has since had tubes surgically inserted in his ears but still relies largely on hand gestures rather than speech.

Jimmy spent 2 1/2 years in a preschool surrounded by other similarly disabled youngsters, then entered a mainstreamed kindergarten last fall as part of the full inclusion trend.

As the school year began, parents and specialists said, the chubby child was sweet and playful, if distant and easily distracted. But by springtime, according to interviews and court records, he had become uncontrollable and aggressive.

“He loves to eat, he loves to play. He’s just a kid,” sighed one of about a dozen people who have worked closely with Jimmy, speaking on the condition that she not be identified. “But when somebody is not in control and not following the norm and you know you can be hit and kicked . . . yeah, it’s scary.

“You never knew from day to day what was going to happen.”

But Peters asserted in documents related to the federal court case that resulted in his child’s reinstatement to the mainstream classroom that his son’s behavior was not much different from that of other children.

“Jimmy is a very happy six year old. He is playful, often makes great sounds, giggles, and is very affectionate,” Peters said in a declaration connected to the lawsuit.

“Many children wander around and look around the room,” said Peters, who spent nearly every day this spring observing Davila’s classroom. “The kindergarten class is generally noisy and active, with children frequently moving around and laughing as Jimmy does.”

A handful of parents, some of whom also have special-needs children, have spoken out in support of Peters’ quest to keep Jimmy in the mainstream class. Parents of others among Jimmy’s classmates, though, have joined school officials in trying to persuade Peters to remove the child.

The school district’s unsuccessful lawsuit focused on tantrums this spring that sent two staff members home on stress leave, but the records and interviews reveal that Jimmy’s behavior has been deteriorating for months.

Many remember the school’s winter pageant in December as a sign of growing problems.

Dressed as one of four pieces of popcorn, Jimmy rolled his eyes skyward, flapping his hands and dancing by himself as his classmates hopped up and down, a performance videotaped by a parent. For the finale, the entire class sang “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” but Jimmy--who at 90 pounds was bigger than all his classmates--hovered in front, skipping across the stage and then across the floor.

“The other kids were doing their thing in the little play, and he was just running wild,” recalled Barbara Brown, the mother of one of Jimmy’s classmates. “The program would have gone a lot smoother and looked a lot better if he hadn’t been doing that, but . . . they can’t control him.”

Born in Las Vegas amid the stormy breakup of Jim Peters and Lilia A. Rodriguez, Jimmy has been shuttled among four cities and lived in about a dozen places, records show. He has not seen Rodriguez--she and Peters never married--in five years, although she recently revealed plans to seek custody and bring Jimmy to her home in Colorado.

Peters’ longtime wife, Renee Harris Peters, has refused to comment on his case.

From December until June, Jimmy and his father lived with another woman and her son. Peters, who said in court papers he has been unemployed since 1989 and receives government assistance, has refused to tell reporters where he lives now. School officials said they are trying to discover that themselves.

Ocean View specialists say Jimmy has five of the seven characteristics of autism, a severe disorder that strikes about one of every 700 children before the age of 4, making it very difficult for them to interact socially, use language or tolerate change.

Peters, however, insists his son simply suffers from a speech delay that slows development.

In school and court records describing Jimmy’s condition, experts said the child hates to be touched, can’t keep his balance, repeats words over and over, and has a minuscule attention span.

School psychologist Linda Herrick wrote in a February, 1991, evaluation contained in court records that Jimmy had poor eye contact and was behind in cognitive development, social skills and speech, but doing well with gross motor skills and daily living tasks such as toilet training and dressing himself.

Last year, however, special-education teacher Carolyn Hollingsworth wrote in a formal school evaluation of Jimmy that he had “severe problems” in listening, organizing, concentrating, thinking before acting, acknowledging mistakes and finishing tasks.

“Communication is limited to naming of objects and some single phrases, e.g., ‘I want,’ ” Hollingsworth wrote. “Jimmy does not . . . interact with other children. . . . Jimmy does not initiate verbal exchanges, initiate greetings or join in classroom verbal interactions on an ongoing basis.”

When Jimmy entered local preschool programs as a toddler, Peters filed a legal action seeking more specialized care. But after 2 1/2 years in special classes, he asked last spring that Jimmy be placed in a mainstream kindergarten.

Jimmy was monitored by a full-time aide while in the class; his school-sponsored educational plan also included special adaptive physical education and language sessions, and occupational therapy at a private facility.

In a report last December, occupational therapist Julie Turner noted Jimmy’s “excellent progress” in working with beans, putty, brushes and toys, but said he had problems with balance. “Jimmy has learned to ride a hoppity horse,” Turner wrote. But “after several feet of hoppity, Jimmy tends to lose his position and fall off.”

After two-thirds of a year in Davila’s class, Jimmy’s report card showed that he was “secure” in writing his name, naming basic colors and exhibiting muscle coordination. But he had trouble with some mathematical concepts and could not cite his own age.

As his problems in school increased this spring, Jimmy had as many as three adults working exclusively with him at times, according to interviews and court records.

He spent most days isolated, working off to the side with his aide--sometimes walled off behind a cubicle to prevent distractions, according to interviews. Many people described Jimmy as withdrawn and immature for his age. He is happiest when eating, they said, and has been scolded for grabbing jelly beans intended for a class project and for snatching an apple off his teacher’s desk.

“Jimmy has become overwhelmed and frustrated with even the minimal expectations required of him,” resource specialist Laura Monge said in her court statement. “His peers ignore Jimmy and appear to be fearful of him because of his unpredictable behavior.”

Though the lawsuit focuses on half a dozen violent outbursts, the interviews chronicled a daily cycle of disruption.

“If he didn’t want to do something, he didn’t,” said parent Tonya Antoski, who visited the class nearly every day. “There was one time where the aide was chasing him out of the classroom, trying to get ahold of him, and he was trying to hide behind me. . . . I don’t think he was trying to hurt anybody, I just think he was scared.”

Jim Hemsley, who oversees special education for Ocean View and four other local districts, watched one February day as Jimmy worked for a couple of minutes with his aide, then ran around his classroom, tossing anything he could get his hands on, according to Hemsley’s court declaration. In about a half hour, Hemsley said, Jimmy jumped up and was forced back to his seat “four or five times.”

Most observers agreed that the children learned early to ignore Jimmy’s tantrums.

“When things happened, the kids would look up and see what was going on and then kind of go back about their business and tune him out,” Chan said. “I think (they) knew that Jimmy was different.”

Several times during the year, school personnel told Peters that Jimmy was not succeeding in Davila’s class, but Peters refused to take him out.

In his court declaration, Peters pointed out that “one of Jimmy’s little girl classmates (was) so fond of him that she kiss(ed) him regularly,” and that two boys once scuffled over who would get to sit next to Jimmy.

Though some parents filed court statements asserting they had never seen any violent behavior from Jimmy, declarations from half a dozen school and district staff members indicate that Jimmy attempted to hit, kick and bite classmates throughout the spring, and that his personal aides received repeated blows from the child.

One day in April, Jimmy spat at a classmate, according to the court statements. Ten days later, he knocked over a desk after an adult took away a bag of popcorn, the statements show.

A month later, “without provocation and without any prior warning, Jimmy approached (a) student and hit the student very hard in the back,” instructional aide Brenda Solum said in her court statement. The following day, she added: “Jimmy pulled a chair out from under one of his classmates . . . then raised the chair in a threatening manner as if to throw it.”

Then, May 18, Jimmy bit his teacher, sending her home on stress leave, Jimmy out of school on suspension and the entire matter into court.

Though the summer break interrupted the dispute, school officials are considering whether to file another lawsuit to keep Jimmy out of a mainstream classroom this fall.