This article is part of Groundwork, an Edmonton Journal engagement initiative.

It was one month into lockdown.

Michelle L’heureux’s four-yearold son was home, missing out on the intensive supports that were just getting him to talk. But that was OK, she thought. Soon it will all go back to normal.

Only it didn’t.

As for many parents of children who need extra support at school, cuts to special needs programs and COVID-19 have been a double whammy. The pandemic set them behind and program changes created a chaotic situation to return to. That was a key theme brought up through the Edmonton Journal’s Groundwork engagement initiative.

That’s been especially true for early learning.

L’heureux’s son Hayden Thibodeau was born deaf. He got his first cochlear implant at age three.

But the UCP changes to the early learning grant — PUF or program unit funding — in February meant he was 16 days too old to continue getting intensive therapy in his tiny public preschool, where one teacher and three educational assistants taught just 12 children, with additional support from expert speech language pathologists and occupational therapists.

Now, she was told, the only public option was kindergarten, a full class with one teacher and one educational assistant.

Hayden wasn’t ready, said L’heureux. “A classroom with 30 kids can be overwhelming for anyone.”

Alberta used to spend $140 million a year helping the youngest kids with special needs.

Children with severe language or physical challenges could enrol as early as two years and eight months old and work with specialists for up to three years to get ready for regular kindergarten.

Most of the programs were blended, which meant children with severe needs learned alongside children with mild, moderate or no delay.

Provincial officials say little has changed — that there is no cut, simply a shift, and kindergarten children will be supported differently.

“Eligibility remains the same, and students who were previously eligible remain eligible for funding,” said Alberta Education press secretary Colin Aitchison, repeating the claim in a statement this month.

But parents’ experiences, reports from the classroom and the complete shutdown of dozens of programs across Edmonton are evidence that the change is more significant than Alberta Education is letting on.

L’heureux managed to get Hayden into a private preschool, which, because it’s private, still has access to funding under the old rules. L’heureux pays $200/month for the preschool and Hayden gets access to up to $25,000 a year, as needed, for specialists.

Others aren’t so fortunate. Stephanie Wigmore had a sense of foreboding when the UCP changes to early learning were announced in February. Her son, five-year-old Harrison, has neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that leads to developmental delays.

She says he made amazing strides in the last two years with intensive support, learning to speak clearly enough that Stephanie’s husband was able to understand him for the first time. They finally got him potty trained and able to dress himself. But his language and fine motor skills are still significantly delayed.

Harrison was supposed to get one more year of intensive support.

But the new age cut-off meant he, too, was put in regular kindergarten instead. It wasn’t until the end of September that Wigmore learned what that meant: 21 kids in his class, one teacher and one educational assistant.

She has been told Elk Island Catholic has no plans to bring in a speech language pathologist or other specialists to work with Harrison as before, she said.

Instead, if the teacher sees a need, she will ask for a consultation, get advice, and try to offer support herself.

“If we could afford private school, we could put him there,” said Wigmore.

In Edmonton, the public board closed 26 early learning locations this year, leaving just six after their budget for pre-kindergarten support dropped to $9.5 million from $39 million, a 76 per cent cut.

They were given $13 million to increase support in kindergarten.

But that’s less than half of the difference.

Edmonton Catholic closed 42 sites, leaving 10 and accepting 581 fewer children in their 100 Voices programs. Last year, they were able to help 895 preschoolers, including 608 or 68 per cent with mild or moderate delays. This year, the board was only able to accept 314 children, mostly those with severe delays. Now only one-quarter are coded mild or moderate.

Alberta Education can’t say how much it’s actually spending this year on special supports for early education because this program’s application deadline has been pushed to December.

It says private schools don’t have to follow the new approach because they don’t have enough students with special needs to be eligible for the new K-12 specialized learning grant.

For public programs, there were several changes in fine print that made a big difference.

The per child grant for severe language challenges (68 per cent of previously eligible children) dropped to $10,000 for a half-day program, from up to $25,000 with no minimum hour requirements.

The age cut off was dropped by one year to four years and eight months, with no support after unless the child is ready for kindergarten. A new 400-hour minimum requirement for children with severe delays means programs must reserve space for a child four halfdays a week, even if specialists find two or three days per week is developmentally more appropriate.

The eligibility criteria for a severe language delay was narrowed. Children with moderate difficulties expressing themselves, plus moderate delays in fine or gross motor skills can no longer qualify as severe. They must be accepted under a different code, which carries an even higher minimum service hour that many programs can’t accommodate.

The change to the classroom environment is dramatic, said Pamela Murphy, a speech language pathologist who helped build the early learning program for Pembina Hills School Division, which includes Westlock and Barrhead.

At its six sites, all private contractors were laid off when the cuts were announced, said Murphy.

The program went from five to two speech language pathologists, although she has now been hired back part time temporarily. The division laid off at least 40 per cent of classroom assistants.

She was proud of what they built before. Specially trained teachers and multiple education assistants ran each class, meeting two or three times a week. She and other specialists would work one-on-one with children, leaving games or techniques for the teachers to practise between visits.

For many kids, it got them ready to speak and focus in kindergarten, she said. The mix of abilities among the children was key.

Preschoolers who spoke clearly acted as additional teachers, naturally encouraging children with delays to stretch themselves and join the games.

Now there’s no staff to support those extra spaces. The games and chatter those children brought are gone. The children who remain are almost exclusively those with severe needs.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean for us to go back to segregation, but that’s what happened,” said Murphy. “My heart breaks for what has been lost.”

I’m sure they didn’t mean for us to go back to segregation, but that’s what’s happened. My heart breaks for what’s been lost.