Eunice Kennedy Shriver transformed prospects for people with developmental disabilities

"This is a civil rights issue!"

I was in full-bore hell-mother-on-wheels mode, working over the kindly principal at the school where my son's special-education program was moved. His bus, which collected other students in special education, was consistently delivering him to school 25 minutes late.

The school utterly disarmed me with a solution that scared me to death: My son would ride with our neighborhood's kids on the regular-ed bus.

Two years later, I'm ashamed for not insisting on the idea myself. My fears of bullying went unrealized. Now, my son knows all the kids who wait at the corner, their parents and some of their dogs. And, the best part? They know him.

I've told that story a couple times this week as I've talked about the passing of Eunice Kennedy Shriver with friends who also love people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. It was Shriver's love of her sister, Rosemary, that helped change the prospects for people like my son and millions of others.

As many obituaries noted, Shriver was also the sister of President John F. Kennedy, but her contributions are monumental in her own right and not only as the founder for the globally successful Special Olympics.

The combination of her relationship to the president and their mutual devotion to their sister began a critical national conversation — still far from complete. Writing in the Sept. 22, 1962, issue of the Saturday Evening Post, Shriver revealed to the nation, in the vernacular of the time: "Rosemary was mentally retarded."

Shriver's groundbreaking article rejected the "dark ages" practices of shame-filled segregation of people with developmental disabilities and of rushing infants off to institutions and printing false obituaries.

Shriver pushed the nation to change its mind. Not only to bring children and adults with disabilities out of institutions and into the light. Not only to welcome them to our neighborhoods, schools, restaurants and, ahem, bus stops. She helped them up onto platforms and put medals around their necks, honoring their accomplishments.

Her exhaustive work sowed many seeds, including encouraging families to help their loved ones claim their places in society. Another civil rights movement was fanned.

Washington state was a leader. Under former Gov. Dan Evans, the state began moving children out of state institutions and supporting community-based programs to help families keep their children at home. He also requested and signed the 1971 Washington Education for All Act, a groundbreaking law guaranteeing students a right to education in their own school districts. The similarly named federal law was passed four years later.

In 2008, Bellevue College became the first institution in the nation to offer an accredited and academically rigorous associate degree for people with cognitive or learning challenges.

There have been setbacks. Washington lawmakers broke their deal with thousands of families to help keep their children at home even in surplus budget years. Providing simple respite care and help with therapies can help a family to better manage the challenges of a special-needs family member. Considering the alternative, that's a bargain.

And there was the gut punch of President Obama's comment on "The Tonight Show" in March. Host Jay Leno asked how his bowling game was, and the president said, "It was like Special Olympics or something." Everyone laughed.

Though his blunder was before a national audience, Obama made a private apology to Timothy Shriver, CEO of the Special Olympics. Obviously his gracious mother's son, Shriver accepted the apology but publicly and firmly suggested the national conversation needed more airing.

Too often, I hear good people use the derisive word "retarded" to describe their own goofs. It grates every time.

There is much more to do. But I am so grateful to Eunice Shriver for starting the conversation. And I am grateful to the late Rosemary Kennedy for so inspiring her sister.

Kate Riley's column appears regularly on editorial pages of The Times. Her e-mail address is kriley@seattletimes.com