Special needs school disabled by lack of finances and support

Situated at the edge of Kakamega town, a few metres off the Kakamega - Webuye road, is Daisy Special Needs School. 

Within its compound are learners living with physical impairment, low vision, autism, Down syndrome, cerebral palsy, and hydrocephalus. Among them are also learners without physical or mental impairments. 

Despite their handicaps, the learners are quite eager, and they are capable, even as the systems meant to support them remain highly delicate.

“Most of the students are physically impaired, but their mental faculties are in top shape. Last year, one of our students scored 69 points out of the maximum 72 points. Another scored 66 points and joined Misikhu girls,” head teacher Eliud Walwanda says.

Walwanda adds that running a special needs school comes with too many challenges, most caused by a lack of adequate finances. And these challenges are not just in school; some follow learners from their homes. 

In parts of Western Kenya, disability still walks under the shadow of societal stigma. Harmful beliefs in witchcraft and curses linger on, shaping negative attitudes and delaying intervention.

“Some parents still believe disability is a curse and live in constant denial,” says Walwanda. “By the time a child comes here, they have already lost precious early intervention years.”

“In some villages, a child with a disability is still seen as a bad omen,” he says. “Some families hide them indoors for years before bringing them to school, where some are promptly abandoned, a burden that is passed onto teachers and caregivers”. 

The delay in seeking help often results in physical regression, speech challenges, and emotional trauma for the learners. 

A mother, who requested anonymity, remembers her own struggle with acceptance of the predicament confronting her. 

“At first, I was in denial,” she says. “Neighbours said many hurtful things, some based on superstition”. 

It was only after enrolling her son at Daisy that hope replaced fear, shame, and stigma. Where before she was chained to the home looking after her physically challenged child, she is today free to do other things after taking her son to Daisy. 

“I saw teachers treating other kids with disabilities with dignity, and that gave me strength,” she adds.

Stigma remains one of the school’s major enemies, limiting enrolment, weakening parental engagement, and isolating families.

Philosophy of CBE

Daisy operates under the Competency-Based Education (CBE) framework, offering age-based pathways from Early Childhood Development to Grade 9. The philosophy of CBE: focusing on ability rather than limitation, aligns naturally with special needs education.

“CBE recognises ability,” Walwanda explains. “But implementation in special schools requires resources that match the vision.”

A tour of the classes shows teachers guiding learners through their lessons. In one pre-vocational class, teachers Christine Talian Muhanda and Esther Okusimba take their learners through lessons in tailoring, bead and mat making, among other disciplines. 

 “Our work is therapy, counselling, behaviour management and teaching, all rolled into one,” Ms Muhanda says. 

“In a mainstream school, one teacher can manage 40 pupils. Not so here. Ideally, a special needs teacher is supposed to teach four students. But due to inadequate staffing, we end up teaching up to 40 students, which is too strenuous,” Muhanda adds.

Teacher burnout is real, and specialised training opportunities are limited, which renders professional development tailored to special needs insufficient.

“CBE demands skilled teachers. Without sustained training, inclusion remains empty rhetoric”, deputy headteacher Kellan Okwako says.

The Competency-Based Education system promises smoother transitions into vocational and life pathways. But at Daisy, transition planning is uncertain.

“What happens after Grade 9? Without structured transition programmes, many learners risk being forgotten at home,” Okwako adds. For learners with severe cerebral palsy or profound intellectual disabilities, vocational absorption into society is a challenge. It requires deliberate policy design, employer sensitisation, and social protection.

To align with CBE’s competency emphasis, Daisy has vocational programmes in hair dressing, weaving, cookery, soap making, dress making, and tailoring. In the tailoring room, however, a gaps exist.

“We have the curriculum,” says Muhanda. “But the government has not supplied the requisite necessities like sewing machines, hair equipment, and chemicals for soap making, which limits the learners.”

If CBE is to fulfil its transformative promise, the Ministry of Education must increase capitation for special schools, equip vocational units, and fund specialised staff.