Sara Roy and Alex Dionne are Ontario's future. In a field that is too often a war zone, where parents and school boards face off over educating kids with disabilities, they attend schools whose principals aren't afraid to be different. Sara, who is 9 and copes with a congenital brain condition, is a student at Davisville Junior Public School in Toronto, where principal Shona Farrelly believes in listening to families.

The 9-year-old's parents, Leslie Inglis and Dennis Roy, have been given the chance to participate in class and Farrelly's door has been open to them. This does not mean all things come easily; it is a work in progress. But "she's really there," says Inglis of Farrelly, "and that makes all the difference."

Alex, who is 7 and has been diagnosed with autism, is in Grade 2 at St. Gabriel School in Windsor. He has had the backing of two successive principals, along with educational assistants and teachers. The school also has welcomed suggestions from his parents and the therapists who worked with him at an early age.

Contrast that with the experience of 9-year-old Gordon Martin, whose story was told in the Star on Monday. Gordon, who also is diagnosed as autistic, arrived home from St. Augustine Catholic School in Cambridge with feces packed in his lunch bag and was expelled in October for disruptive behaviour. The Martins hired a support worker to help in class with their son. The school asked the worker to leave. Janet Martin says her son's behaviour is a response to the way he is being treated. The school calls her complaints "baseless," banning her from all school properties.

Complete breakdowns in communication are too often the norm for the near 300,000 children in Ontario's $1.8 billion-a-year special-ed system. In an ideal world, the school should meet the child's needs. Too often today, the child must meet the needs of a school without resources to make education accessible to all. It's the school, not the child, that is limited in ability. But it's the child who bears the burden.

A special working committee studying the issue is due to give an interim report to Education Minister Gerard Kennedy before Christmas. But more than 200 emails and letters to the Star reveal a snapshot of key issues and good ideas for change. Overwhelmingly, families say they are frustrated because there is no way to follow the money, no accountability through the system.

At a parliamentary committee looking into education accounts last month, Conservative MPP Frank Klees spoke of "recurring appeals from parents who feel they were railroaded into signing agreements...or felt intimidation." "I take your point," Kennedy replied. "That whole interface with parents has to be improved."

This week, Kennedy announced a $5.2 million plan to set up parent-involvement committees to consult with senior board administrators and trustees. Members knowledgeable in special needs should be an important element. Parents also need to know that school boards spend special education dollars on the services and students they were meant for.

As education critic, Kennedy watched the previous government blur the relationship between funding and the child's education prescription. "They detached it," he said in a telephone interview last week. "We have to find a way to get that back." The question the working committee has to answer is: how? Changing the system "is like getting a ocean-going ship to change direction," says Brock University's Sheila Bennett, co-chair with Kennedy's parliamentary assistant MPP Kathleen Wynne. "It's a delicate process."

Already Kennedy has scrapped the intensive support allowance (ISA), which was nothing more than a "negative labelling for dollars" game. Under ISA, critics charge, school boards could keep money received for services allocated to a child even though the child had been expelled or suspended indefinitely. "They would get an additional $54,000 NOT to educate students like Gordon Martin," says Marilyn Dolmage of the Coalition for Inclusive Education.

For the interim, Kennedy plans to give boards money based on students' education needs. "We're in a holding pattern now and that's uncomfortable," he says. "But we want to make sure we get it right before we move ahead."

Some families, like Sara Roy's parents, believe children with special needs belong in integrated schools and that dollars spent giving classroom support are among the best investments the system can make. Others choose to home-school or favour a smaller, specialized environment. "I'm for inclusion where appropriate but some children cannot cope with busy classrooms," notes Elizabeth Starr, associate professor of education at the University of Windsor and a specialist in autism spectrum disorders. "For some, the least restrictive environment is a small, separate class."

Kathy Lear started the Laureate School, one of a number of small, private independent facilities, when she couldn't find what she wanted for her son in the public system. The school goes up to Grade 8 and the average class size is eight. But the more than $15,000 in annual tuition fees puts it beyond the reach of most families.

No matter what the environment, one thing is clear: nothing works unless the principal is on board. Needless to say, the principal must be given the necessary resources and have the confidence to seek help if needed.

The ministry of child services has an autism support program, designed to help teachers coping with behaviour issues. Some schools embrace it, others don't like outside help, Starr says.

What should the system be striving for? Consider Alex Dionne. In fully integrated classes at St. Gabriel School in Windsor, he has an educational assistant who is crucial to his success, says his mother. When he entered senior kindergarten, his parents asked if the team that had been working with him at home providing intensive behaviour therapy could observe him in class and make suggestions. Not only did the school welcome the therapists, it implemented their suggestions. As he is a visual learner, it created a visual schedule of the day's activities and gave him a computer. While his classmates write, Alex types answers. Electrical outlets for the computer have been installed at the back of the classroom because, as his mother puts it, "he is a flight risk" and sitting at the back makes it harder for him to flee class. For the same reason, the school installed gates at openings in the fence outside. It also stocked a "time-out" room with his favourite toys and books. His parents would like to see more funding for speech and language pathologists. But they have nothing but praise for the school. "Our experience shows that our autistic son can learn and succeed in the school system, given the right support for his unique needs in the classroom," Ruth Kuras says. "Our son absolutely loves to go to school everyday, even asks for it on Saturdays." Now that's success.