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The Fight for Special Education

Students were denied special education services even before Trump began dismantling the Department of Education. This Texas family is fighting back.

In March 2020, Courtney and Spencer Morey moved to Aledo, Texas, a rapidly expanding suburb of Fort Worth, because of the stellar reputation of its schools. But about three years later, when their daughter Annie, who has Down syndrome, was supposed to start preschool, she was denied the education that is guaranteed to her by law under the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), even though no one from the school had ever met her.

I met the Moreys on an unusually warm afternoon last spring. Dressed in white shorts, a sleeveless red sweater, and modest jewelry, Courtney waved me into her well-air-conditioned SUV, and she and I drove to pick up Annie from KinderFrogs, an early-intervention program for children with disabilities on the campus of nearby Texas Christian University. Annie has attended KinderFrogs ever since the district’s requirements for an assessment of her special-education needs—including an IQ test—prevented her from enrolling in its preschool program.

Like Courtney, I have a daughter with Down syndrome, and during the drive, we chatted about our children. Courtney shared the details of Annie’s recent dance recital, and I told her about my daughter’s upcoming eighth-grade trip to Washington, DC.

When we reached the Texas Christian University campus, Courtney pulled up to KinderFrogs’ beige stone building, where children sat cross-legged outside on a shaded patio as teachers helped them gather their oversize backpacks. We parked along the curb, joining a parade of parents in SUVs. Courtney hopped out of the car to scoop up Annie, who settled into the back seat and shouted a music request (“Play Frozen!”) before we set off for an ice-cream parlor with outdoor seating and dairy-free options.

As we settled in at a picnic table, Annie ate a few bites of her lemon-blueberry scoop, leaving the rest to melt in the Texas sun. She started to walk around and explore the nearby benches and trees. Her mother and I both jumped up when Annie began to wander too close to the parking lot. In the brief time that I had spent with her, Annie seemed like a vivacious 5-year-old, more interested in testing boundaries than in sitting still.

As Courtney tried to coax a few more bites of ice cream into Annie’s mouth before it turned to soup, she told me that Annie was born with a heart defect that required complicated surgery when she was 4 months old. She went into cardiac arrest during the surgery and was without oxygen for 52 minutes. Afterward, she spent nine days on the highest form of life support. “The doctors didn’t expect her to live,” Courtney told me, fear still catching in her throat. The memory of those traumatic early weeks of Annie’s life are why the family has brought a case against the Aledo Independent School District. “Annie didn’t fight so hard to live so some school district could limit her potential,” Courtney explained.

Although they had moved to Aledo because of the good reputation of its schools, Courtney and Spencer were later warned about the district’s approach to special education. “We started to hear from other parents who had gone before us,” Courtney said. Most of them were unsuccessful at getting their children with disabilities into mainstream classrooms. “Inclusion was what we wanted for Annie,” Courtney said, meaning that they wanted their daughter to learn in a general-education setting rather than a segregated, special-education classroom. But the Moreys knew that first they would need to work with teachers and school administrators to write an Individualized Education Program, or IEP, for Annie. The IEP would be based on an evaluation of Annie’s development and provide a plan for the support and accommodation that she would need in order to learn alongside the other students in a mainstream classroom.

In September 2023, Courtney called the Aledo Independent School District to request an evaluation for special-education services. Courtney discussed the required cognitive and developmental assessments with the district’s diagnostician, who explained that the tests would evaluate Annie by comparing her development to what is typical for her age. “My fear is Annie being labeled,” Courtney told the diagnostician over the phone. “I don’t want her, I guess, put in a box before we really know Annie.” Courtney was fine with any evaluations that were based on play and observation, but she was concerned about what might be assumed about her daughter’s potential based on an IQ score. “I just knew if they gave her an IQ test, it wouldn’t really reflect who Annie is,” Courtney told me.

The diagnostician seemed to agree, saying, “It’s really hard with little bitties.” Courtney felt relieved, but about a week later, the diagnostician e-mailed her the paperwork to sign, and two widely used IQ tests for children—the WPPSI and the ECAD—were still listed. Courtney called the diagnostician back and told her that this wasn’t what they had discussed. She returned the paperwork to the diagnostician with the IQ tests crossed off and explained that she consented to the rest of the form, just not the IQ tests. A few days later, the district’s assistant superintendent e-mailed the Moreys an official notice stating that they had effectively denied consent to evaluate Annie for special education and therefore their daughter would not receive services under the IDEA. At this point, the Moreys felt they faced two options: They could hire a lawyer and file for a due-process hearing, or they could provide their unconditional consent for the district to evaluate Annie however it wanted.

Right after Thanksgiving, the Moreys filed a due-process claim with the Texas Education Agency (TEA) asking it to determine whether parents must consent to every aspect of a district’s evaluation to allow a student to qualify for special-education services. No one at the Aledo Independent School District ever explained to Annie’s parents why an IQ test was necessary to determine that she was eligible for special education. But the TEA ruled in favor of the school district and stated that the Moreys had not provided enough evidence that IQ tests were inappropriate for a 3-year-old. The Moreys appealed the decision with the help of a pro bono lawyer, and the case—Annie M. v. Aledo ISD—is currently being considered by the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.

Annie’s case is being decided at a particularly perilous time for special education. Last October, the Trump administration took the government shutdown as an opportunity to fire nearly every remaining staff member at the Office of Special Education Programs, which monitors state regulations, administers grants to researchers, and provides support to parents. The firings are being litigated, but the office has already canceled millions of dollars in grants to train teachers in special education and to fund programs that aid parents in supporting their children through the special-education process. And on June 16, 2026, the US Department of Education announced an interagency agreement to........

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