Heidi Foley likes to escape a bad day by imagining a herd of wild horses running just beyond the field near an old house on a hot summer day.
In a school essay titled "Equality," she writes about a horse that is separate from the herd, "very lonely and sad," using it as a metaphor for her own life.
"I am in a wheelchair, and all my life I have been treated differently in many ways: laughed at, ignored, teased and many other mean things," said Foley, who was born with cerebral palsy.
In real life, Foley plays Challenger Little League, goes ice skating at Santa Fe Station -- on her motorized wheelchair -- and grooms miniature horses with the Mini Angels 4-H Club.
"There are different lead ropes you can experiment with, and if you tell the horses to run, they will," said Foley, whose parents stand alongside her wheelchair as she works with the horses. "In the center of the arena, there are obstacles you can take them through."
Foley, 13, has her own share of obstacles, but she has resolved to not let them stand in her way.
She plans to go to college and pursue a career in advocacy for people with disabilities, a talent she tested at a recent School Board meeting. Her speech, held before a packed board room on the night of a protest over teacher salaries, drew tears and a standing ovation from the crowd.
When Foley talked, people listened.
"Doctors told me she would never talk, walk or be able to feed herself," said her mother, Leigh Foley, who adopted Heidi as an infant. "They asked me, 'Are you sure you know what you are getting into?' But from the first moment I held her, our souls met."
Foley earned A's and B's in a regular classroom setting in the Clark County School District. But after a series of setbacks -- a favorite aide left the district, another was disciplined for making insensitive comments -- she enrolled this fall in Odyssey, a charter school that specializes in technology through the use of a home computer, along with regular classes.
In a recent letter to the School Board, Foley said she attended Lied Middle School for 20 months and had problems with aides promptly getting her to the rest room. She also alleged that aides told her it was "disgusting" that they had to lift her out of her wheelchair and assist her in the rest room.
Jack Gordan, a Student Support Services administrative assistant, said the district had already investigated the situation, disciplined one of the aides and provided sensitivity training. District officials said they were puzzled about the School Board appearance.
Charlene Green, assistant superintendent for Student Support Services, could not be reached for comment over the school district's holiday break.
Foley said she spoke out to make a point.
"I want to be a voice for those who don't have one," she said. "The way some of us are being treated isn't right."
Foley's mother said her daughter has become withdrawn and depressed since leaving Lied Middle School.
"She is very outgoing and misses being with her peers," she said.
Now her daughter works at home to complete school work on her computer through the Odyssey program. A typical day begins at about 9 a.m.
Foley, an eighth grader, was recently brushing up on her skills for dividing and multiplying fractions, a task she has to learn to perform without scrap paper because of her limited hand mobility.
Problems with her eyes make reading difficult, as well.
"She has trouble reading because her eyes have difficulty tracking," Foley's mother said.
Odyssey, which opened during the 1999-2000 school year, requires at least 5.5 hours of school work per day, which is verified by school staffers. An estimated 400 students attend the school this year, which serves students from kindergarten through grade 10.
While there has not been a large influx of special education students into charter schools in the district, Gordan said they are appealing to students who have disabilities without severe restrictions.
"Some of them need so much care they have to attend a regular setting," he said.
The district's 25,840 special education students this year represents about 11 percent of the entire student population of 244,684, officials said. Nationally, special education students represent about 12 percent of a school district's population.
The cost of educating special education students continues to grow as the population in the district rises. Last year the district received $146 million in aid for 24,497 special education students, said Kim Dupuis, a data analyst for student support services.
Costs for the program include teachers, aides, transportation and supplies. The state and federal aid still isn't enough to entirely fund it, Dupuis said, adding that the district chips in additional dollars from the general fund.
"There are many special education students who don't have the potential Heidi does," said Gordan. "There is no question she will be able to go on to college and will have a successful career."
Her mother said the thing her daughter wants the most, aside from an education, is an apology from the district.
"We never got one," she said.
Foley said her experience has taught her that is often the case.
In her essay about wild horses, she writes that a horse came up to the one who seemed sad and separate from the herd.
"I watched them for a couple of hours," she wrote. "They seemed to become good friends."
She concludes by writing: "My point is this. The next time you see a person who has a disability, whether it's at work, at school or even at the store, just be nice and who knows, you might turn their day around. Getting made fun of every day starts to hurt.
"Just in case you're wondering, a few days later the horse was running, jumping and playing. As for me, well, I'll be here."
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