Shaun Cardenas at the Henry Viscardi School, in Albertson, where he is...

Shaun Cardenas at the Henry Viscardi School, in Albertson, where he is an English teacher. Credit: Linda Rosier

Shaun Cardenas has taught English at the Henry Viscardi School for severely physically disabled children since 2009. The kids there are among Long Island's most vulnerable, some requiring medical treatment throughout the day.

But Cardenas doesn’t earn enough on teaching alone to make ends meet. So he moonlights.

At 5:30 and 7 a.m. most days, he teaches cycling and yoga classes at Life Time Fitness in Garden City. Then he is off to Viscardi in Albertson. When school ends on Mondays, he heads back to Life Time for another class. By 6 p.m., he is finally home, some 14 hours after his 4 a.m. wake-up time. And there is still grading and class prep to do.

With the help of his other job and his wife, whom he married in 2021, he is able to pay his bills. “By the grace of God, finding another place of serious income, and then getting married, I am finally to a place where I can take a breath,” Cardenas told Newsday. “But you know, should I, a 15-year teacher, with a master's and working with the most severely disabled in this state, be making statements like that? I don't feel that I should.”

 WHAT TO KNOW

  • Teachers at special schools for disabled children on Long Island say they are vastly underpaid compared to public school teachers, even though they work with a vulnerable population.
  • Administrators at the schools say the problem stems from an outdated state funding formula that needs to be reformed.
  • The state spends more money per pupil in these schools than public schools, but the staff pay still lags behind.

Cardenas, 44, is a casualty of what school officials say is an antiquated and unfair state budget process that allocates funds for 11 special schools in New York State that serve deaf, blind and severely emotionally or physically disabled children. Viscardi, the Cleary School for the Deaf in Nesconset, and the Mill Neck Manor School for the Deaf are the ones on Long Island.

Unlike public school districts, these state-sponsored schools, known as 4201s after the section of the education law that created them, cannot levy taxes on residents to fund their budgets. That means 4201s get almost all their funding from the state through a complicated formula that requires lawmakers to advocate for increases each year.

State officials note that enrollment in the schools has declined and the state still spends more per pupil in these schools than public schools due to the children's specialized needs. But educators say it's only fair that teachers who work with some of society’s neediest children earn salaries that aren't so far behind public school teachers — sometimes nearly half.

Many, like Cardenas, moonlight to make ends meet. Others simply quit, lured away by higher salaries and better benefits in the public schools. When this happens, educators say, the ones who suffer are the children.

"It’s very disappointing," said Tracy Henning, a speech pathologist at Cleary who estimates she could increase her salary by more than 50% if she went to a public school. "We’re experts in the field, yet we get paid significantly less."

She, too, works extra jobs, doing speech evaluations and other professional work after she leaves Cleary. She says she stays at Cleary because she loves the environment.

The Cleary School for the Deaf in Nesconset.

The Cleary School for the Deaf in Nesconset. Credit: Rick Kopstein

Working with the most vulnerable

One morning last month at Cleary, teachers were performing what administrators described as minor miracles. Teacher Theresa Degree led a half-dozen preschool children in learning how to pronounce the letter F. Partly because of technological advances such as cochlear implants that can help the deaf hear, the room was buzzing with activity — and speech — as the children tried to figure out and pronounce the word for "light fluff on a bird’s body" — feather.

In another classroom where bilingual students had more severe hearing problems, a teacher relied more heavily on American Sign Language to teach reading and writing in English as students also completed math worksheets.

Given their special mission and specialized training, educators at 4201s contend their teachers and staff should be paid at least as much as mainstream public school teachers.

At Viscardi, the starting salary for a teacher with a bachelor’s degree is $41,898. Five years later, it’s $47,963. For a teacher with a master’s degree, the first-year salary is $48,481. After five years, it is $55,229, and after a decade, $68,031. For a teacher like Cardenas with 15 years of service and a master’s, the base salary is $80,619.

By comparison, median teacher salaries have risen beyond $130,000 annually in more than 20 public school districts across Long Island, Newsday reported in April. The median salary in most systems across the Island was up to $120,000.

Down the road from Viscardi in the Herricks school district — including Herricks High School less than two miles away — teachers made a median salary of $130,225 in 2022-23. These salaries reflect the high cost of living on Long Island.

Cardenas and his co-workers at Viscardi will almost certainly never earn such a figure. The highest step on the pay scale for a teacher with a master’s is $90,834 after 25 years. Those who stay on after 25 years get only a $250 annual raise. After 31 years, it’s a $350 annual raise.

Even a teacher at Viscardi who has a doctorate and has worked there 25 years doesn’t make six figures — it’s $98,642. It would take until their 31st year to break the $100,000 mark, with the $350 annual raise putting them at $100,242.

"It’s egregious," said Cardenas, who also serves as president of Viscardi’s union.

Chris Rosa, president and CEO of The Viscardi Center, which includes the school, said teachers there are paid "as much as 45% less than their peers in surrounding school districts."

The funding issue dates to a 2011-12 agreement in which the governor and the State Legislature — partly in an attempt to save money during a budget crunch — set frozen baseline budgets for the 4201s.

Jaqueline Simms, executive director of the Cleary School for the...

Jaqueline Simms, executive director of the Cleary School for the Deaf in Nesconset. Credit: Rick Kopstein

The schools pay teachers using state funds and decide how to set salaries. But administrators say the funds — even with some annual increases — are insufficient to pay their teachers salaries commensurate with teachers in public schools. Since 2011-12, the state-provided budgets haven’t kept up with enrollment increases, inflation and other costs, said Jacqueline Simms, the executive director of Cleary.

Angelo Zegarelli, Viscardi’s superintendent, said 4201s have not received state fund increases similar to public schools. For instance, in 2013-14, public schools got a 4.7% increase in funding while 4201s got zero, he said. In 2021-22, it was an 11.7% increase for public schools and 1.39% for 4201s.

The increases 4201s do get are rarely included up front in the governor’s executive budget, so the schools on Long Island are left to rely on the State Legislature to negotiate their funding before the budget is finalized.

Both Zegarelli and Simms said they are grateful for allies in the legislature. "The only way 4201s or Viscardi have been able to receive growth was through the legislature," Zegarelli said.

State Assemb. Fred Thiele Jr. (D-Sag Harbor) said he has taken on the cause of the Cleary School even though it is not in his district, in part because he is impressed with its work.

"The governor has never adequately funded" 4201s, "regardless of who the governor is," Thiele said. "More needs to be done. The formula should be revisited, and it should be updated and reflect the current needs of these schools. It really needs a complete overhaul."

State Sen. Monica Martinez (D-Brentwood), another advocate for the schools, said they must fight every year in budget negotiations to keep their funding and get increases.

"These children also deserve an equitable education and they deserve teachers who want to stay," said Martinez, a former teacher. The 4201s "do a great job. They are a different type of program. They are providing services that unfortunately sometimes our public schools can’t provide."

Budgeting for special needs

Kara Fesolovich, a spokesperson for Gov. Kathy Hochul, said the governor "is committed to providing 4201s with the resources they need to support their students."

Hochul helped secure $164 million in the fiscal 2025 budget for the schools, including a nearly $4 million increase in operating aid from the previous year, Fesolovich said.

But the 4201 Schools Association had requested $30 million over three years “to increase salaries to better align with those offered by public school districts,” in its 2024-25 State Budget Priorities, with the same request the year before.

"The governor will continue working to ensure all New Yorkers living with disabilities enjoy the education, rights and privileges that everyone deserves," Fesolovich said.

State budget figures show that spending per pupil at 4201s is higher than at other schools — an average of $127,000 a year per child compared to $70,000 per child in private special education schools and $30,000 in regular public schools. The state also approved $30 million in capital funding this year, though the money is divided among the 11 4201 schools and goes toward infrastructure projects.

State officials note that over the past decade, enrollment at 4201 schools has declined by 20% on average, with some schools losing up to 50% of their enrollment. Despite that, per-pupil funding at these schools has increased roughly 50% on average during that time, about 4.1% annually, they said.

Hochul's office did not comment directly on whether the governor believes teachers in 4201s should be paid more but said she has no authority over how the schools use the funds they are granted.

Simms and others argue the 4201s need much more money to function than regular schools because they perform specialized services, sometimes with as few as two students in a class. The students have far more educational and medical needs, requiring services such as physical therapy and occupational therapy.

“[It’s] a very, very small piece of a budget for ... taking care of the most medically fragile, physically disabled kids," Zegarelli said. "We support the most fragile and the most vulnerable population in New York State."

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