Tim Villegas spent nearly twenty years working with the kids Robert F. Kennedy Jr. said would “never hold a job,” “never write a poem,” and “never go out on a date.”
In this edition of the Weeklyish, we revisit the early days of his career and share a much different vision of what students with high support needs are capable of.
Hello Inclusionists,
My career in special education started in 2001 as a behavior therapist for young children on the autism spectrum. I was fresh out of college with a BA in Psychology, saving up for grad school, when I joined the Verdugo Hills Autism Project. My job was to provide in-home and school-based therapy. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I had a knack for teaching—and more importantly, that I loved it.
There was one little boy—let’s call him Pete—who taught me more than any training manual or autism book ever could. Pete loved swinging in his backyard. So during breaks from our structured table time, we’d head outside, and I’d build anticipation before pushing him on the swing: “Here I come… I’m going to push you…”—wild hand gestures and all—until he smiled and said “more.” His joy was infectious.
Pete had high support needs. He was mostly nonspeaking, used gestures to communicate, and occasionally melted down when overwhelmed. He also had some health-related complexities. But he was smart, loving, and completely himself. Working with Pete and kids like him was what drew me deeper into the field.
Eventually, I got my Moderate to Severe teaching credential from Cal State Fullerton and taught in a self-contained 4th to 6th grade classroom in Pasadena, CA. The students I worked with had extensive support needs—many were nonspeaking, some had behavior challenges, and several needed significant help just to navigate their day. I’ve been bitten, kicked, spat on, hit with objects more times than I can count. But I’ve also welled up with happy tears when a student reached a hard-fought milestone. It was a lot of work, but worth every second.
What turned my classroom around was to make it as predictable as possible. We had routines. Picture schedules. Modified curriculum. Music time with my guitar. My classroom ran like a scripted play—because for my students, predictability was peace.
But I’ll be honest: I didn’t always believe inclusion could work for students with high support needs. I thought they needed structure and routine that couldn’t exist in a general ed classroom. That was until a professor challenged me for an assignment in class: “Pick the student you think could never be included and create a plan.” So I chose Nathan, a 5th-grader who had limited verbal communication, engaged in self-injury, and often lashed out when dysregulated.
But Nathan loved cutting things. Cardboard. Paper. Leaves. Anything he could shred.
Me and a general education teacher created a plan: he would join a 5th-grade science class making topography maps out of cardboard. He had a meaningful role. It was age-appropriate. For 45 minutes, he was just a kid in science class. Calm. Focused. Proud.
That moment changed me. Nathan didn’t become fully included overnight or even as he moved on from my class, but I became someone who believed that with the right support, any student could be successful in general education—or the workplace. It might look different. It might take more creativity. But it’s always possible.
Which brings me to the recent comments made by Robert F. Kennedy Jr.
In a press conference last week, RFK Jr. claimed that about 25% of children with autism “…will never pay taxes…never hold a job…never play baseball…never write a poem…never go out on a date. Many of them will never use a toilet unassisted.” He doubled down in an Fox News interview, painting a bleak and frankly dehumanizing picture of autistic people—especially those with high support needs.
As someone who’s spent nearly two decades working with the very children RFK Jr. claims are doomed to a life of dependency, I want to say clearly: he’s wrong.
RFK Jr.’s assertion that autism is caused by vaccines—or by unnamed “environmental toxins”—is not only scientifically inaccurate, it’s dangerous. But what’s worse is the way he talks about autistic people, especially those who require more support. The message he sends is: they are burdens. They are broken. They are not productive. They are not valuable.
That’s not just bad science. It’s a moral failure.
In his MSNBC piece, Eric Garcia writes that “of course there are autistic people, including nonspeaking autistic people and ones with intellectual disabilities, who require significant support. Even so, they don’t deserve Kennedy’s awful rhetoric that describes them not as people but as burdens.” Julia Bascom and David M. Perry in the Nation further point out that the label of “profound” autism can lead to stigmatizing and exclusionary policies—when in reality, all autistic people deserve support, respect, and a shot at a meaningful life.
Yes, some autistic people have health needs that require ongoing attention. Yes, some will need lifelong support. But that is not the same as saying they don’t belong. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean they’re not productive members of society.
I find it very alarming that the very reasoning that RFK uses, that some autistics “will never…” is the same logic that people use to create segregated classrooms and programs.
I’ve seen kids who were once written off go on to get jobs, have friendships, learn how to communicate and yes—fall in love. Their paths may not look “typical,” but typical is overrated. What matters is belonging. What matters is support. What matters is recognizing the inherent worth of every human being.
RFK Jr. wants us to believe that some children with autism will never be able to contribute meaningfully to society. That kind of thinking suggests there’s a clear line between who is “productive” and who isn’t—between who matters and who doesn’t.
I reject that.
All people are worthy of belonging, love, and dignity.
Maybe the real epidemic isn’t autism—it’s exclusion
Tim Villegas
Director of Communications
Maryland Coalition for Inclusive Education
P.S. If you want an insider’s perspective about being autistic in America, I highly recommend Eric Garcia’s book We’re Not Broken.
Empowering educators: Navigating inclusive education challenges and opportunities with Nicole Eredics
In this engaging episode of Think Inclusive, I had the pleasure of speaking with inclusive education expert Nicole Eredics. We began by exploring Nicole’s rich history in education, from her advocacy for inclusion in Canada to her transformative work in U.S. schools. Nicole shared her experiences with school districts, highlighting advancements in personalized instruction and technology integration to support diverse student needs. We also delved into the complexities of standardized testing, co-teaching models, and the significant impact educators have on creating positive educational experiences. As our conversation deepened, Nicole emphasized the growing focus on individual student needs and diversity awareness, which has driven changes in instructional practices and the use of universal design for learning (UDL). Despite these advancements, she pointed out ongoing challenges, such as the rigidity of standardized systems and grading struggles. Nicole offered practical advice for educators, encouraging them to start with small, manageable changes and leverage technology and collaboration to enhance their inclusive teaching methods.
The power of storytelling in disability rights with Jeiri Flores
In this episode of Think Inclusive, I had the privilege of introducing listeners to the compelling story and advocacy journey of Jeiri Flores, a dynamic disability rights activist. Jeiri opened up about the relentless challenges faced by disabled individuals, particularly highlighting the dehumanization and isolation embedded within societal and systemic structures. Through engaging storytelling, she discussed the critical role of love and belonging in fostering truly inclusive communities and delved into how these spaces can transform by acknowledging the humanity of every individual. Throughout our conversation, Jeiri reflected on her advocacy’s roots, nurtured from a young age while translating for her family, and how her practices have evolved over time. We explored key themes such as navigating healthcare systems, societal expectations, and the perpetual need for systemic change. Jeiri emphasized the power of sharing personal narratives, not only as a form of advocacy but as a way to bridge connections between diverse experiences. As she navigated topics like love, belonging, and her intersectional identity, Jeiri provided a rich tapestry of insights that resonate deeply with educators, advocates, and anyone passionate about disability rights and inclusion.
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Tim Villegas is an internationally recognized expert in inclusive education who joined MCIE as the Director of Communications in 2020. He has appeared on over 20 podcasts, presented at numerous conferences, and launched the Think Inclusive blog and podcast. Tim founded the newsletter The Weeklyish in 2020 and produced the audio documentary series Inclusion Stories in 2023. Since joining MCIE in 2020, he has led their communications and marketing efforts, drawing on his 16 years of experience as a special education teacher and program specialist.