Special Ed Grads Learn Struggling Doesn’t End With School

They were Narbonne High School’s special education class of 1999: 17 dedicated seniors who overcame physical handicaps and learning disorders to finish school June 23.

I knew you could do it! exulted the teachers, counselors and parents who got personally involved in their academic climbs.

What no one can tell graduates such as Lisa Burchette, 19; Robert Blanco, 18; Monticue Hurndon, 18; and Carlos Celaya, 18, is what happens now.

Like former special education students everywhere, when they crossed the stage to pick up their diplomas and certificates of completion, they also stepped into a statistical void. There never has been a system to track the career trends of special education graduates, let alone suggest who among them might become successful, or not.

School officials can only hope that the “career training” they received as seniors will reduce their chances of failure in increasingly competitive job markets.

But four months after finishing high school, Burchette, Blanco, Hurndon and Celaya were struggling--some harder than others--to come to terms with their permanent disabilities ranging from dyslexia to difficulties dealing with words and numbers even as they tried to shape new careers in junior college and the workplace.

Robert Blanco

The gold tassel off Blanco’s mortarboard still hangs from the rearview mirror of the metallic aquamarine 1966 Mustang his parents bought him as a graduation present.

Trouble is, Blanco, who has problems deciphering words and recalling what he’s read, has yet to pass his driver’s license examination.

“I study and study, but every time I take the test I miss a license by one question,” he said. “And I’ve taken the test three times!”

As if that were not painful enough, the clean-cut young man who sports fashionable oval eyeglasses was recently released from his first full-time job as a sales associate at a local Kmart after only 90 days.

He said supervisors at the store insisted that it was “nothing personal,” just a consequence of a change in management.

The car--and the lost job--have become nagging reminders of his difficulties in school with reading and retention, which became acute in the third grade after he was involved in an automobile accident.

Undaunted, however, he pressed ahead to earn the high school diploma that hangs high on a wall in his parents’ living room. Now, he wants a decent job to help him chart a secure financial future.

“I’ve filled out dozens of job applications over the past two weeks at places like clothing stores and pastry houses,” he said. “I’ve even made follow-up calls. They say: ‘We’re working on it.’ ”

Erasing a smudge on the hood of his Mustang with a rag, he added: “Meanwhile, I’ve got to get that driver’s license. Hopefully, my first drive will be to a new job.”

Lisa Burchette

Burchette is impossible to miss at the Marriott Hotel in Torrance on “salsa night.”

She’s the 6-foot-tall, ponytailed security officer in a black uniform making the rounds in the hotel’s two bars, lobbies, restrooms and parking structure.

The fact that she cares passionately about her job--and has been getting raves from her supervisors--has made her a local hero among Narbonne High’s special education teachers and counselors.

In school, Burchette, who has difficulty reading and composing her thoughts in written form, spent an hour a day in an expository composition class.

As a security guard, she earns $8.25 an hour conducting investigative patrols and handling calls for help from hotel guests. During the slow graveyard shifts that Burchette pulls twice a week, she also tackles homework assignments from a math class that she takes at Harbor Community College in Wilmington.

“I’ll be at the Marriott until I graduate from college,” said Burchette, who wants to become a probation officer. “I’m taking one class in basic math right now, and getting straight A’s. Next semester I’ll take a full load.”

On Tuesday she started a second job as a dispatcher for the Renaissance Hotel in Culver City.

“I need the extra money to move out on my own,” said Burchette, who shares an apartment with an older sister.

“A lot of people think special education students can’t do much of anything on their own, that we’re handicapped, slow or dumb,” she said. “We are not. We simply have a disability. And we have to learn to work through it.

“But no matter who you are, you won’t get far in this world if you don’t speak up; I’ve never been embarrassed to ask for help when I need it,” she said. “Another thing: The more you read, the more you remember. Keep on reading.”

Monticue Hurndon

No sooner had Hurndon introduced himself to a coach at Long Beach City College than he was instructed to enroll in a schedule of history, economics and health classes that left lots of time for football practice.

That was Sept. 19. Now, the tall, muscular, bright-eyed youth with an easy smile is behind in his history reading assignments by at least 150 pages, and too embarrassed to tell his coach about it.

“Coach never asked if I was dyslexic and I never told him,” Hurndon said in an interview in the living room of his home. “Now, I need some serious help. Each chapter in history is about 50 pages long, which means it takes me forever to read them.”

With the help of his mother, Sharon, a service manager at a Manhattan Beach meatpacking plant, he’s trying mightily to catch up. Each night, she reads her son’s assignments aloud while he takes notes. It is a slow, arduous routine that keeps them up until 11 most weeknights.

Hurndon, who received a “letter of recommendation” instead of a diploma because he failed to pass all of his proficiency exams, has yet to sign up for tutoring programs available at Long Beach City for students with special needs.

“I just haven’t gotten around to applying for a tutor yet,” he said. “I will, though. Got to. I can’t leave it all up to my mom.”

In an interview in her corporate office, his mother said: “We are determined to do whatever it takes to get through this phase of his life. If college doesn’t work out, then we’ll do a trade school.

“Things are tight financially,” she added. “But you can’t hang a dollar sign on your child’s education. I’ll give him all the tools I can, and pray for the best.”

Carlos Celaya

Over a cheeseburger and fries at a restaurant near Narbonne High, “Polar Bear,” as Celaya’s high school friends referred to him, talked about his dream of finishing high school, joining the Marines, seeing the world, then coming home to raise a family.

“I had it all worked out. I thought life was going to be easy. I was wrong,” he said. “I got a letter of certification instead of a diploma. Without a diploma, I can’t join the Marines.

“My big problem is that I mix Spanish and English when I read and write,” he said. “That’s because when I was in elementary school, I was switched from English to Spanish and back again in just a few years.

“Now, I’ve got big problems with long words,” said Celaya, who received intensive phonics instruction throughout his high school years.

Celaya avoided mentioning his learning problems when he landed a job at a local drugstore in July as a part-time stock boy.

But they came back to haunt him.

“Within three weeks, I was working full time and the manager asked me if I wanted to be an assistant manager,” he recalled. “I said: ‘Sounds cool. I’ll think about it.’ ”

In fact, he wondered whether he could handle additional responsibilities that were all but certain to involve reading and writing.

An argument with his supervisor provided a way out. “I told him I didn’t want that job. So I’m still working part-time.

“I’m just going to have to set a new goal for myself,” he added, twirling his tiger’s eye class ring on his finger. “Maybe I’ll go to college and become an accountant. I’ve always been better with numbers than with words.”