Joe used to cry at school drop-off. Now his teachers call him the Mayor of Bel Air.

“Joe’s coming.”

Giddiness took over Bel Air Elementary School staff as the last bus pulled up to the curb on Harford County’s first day of school. One adult quickly interrupted the musical setlist to play “As Long as You Love Me” by the Backstreet Boys through the portable speaker.

“This is Joe’s song,” another said.

They waited in anticipation as the bus’s wheelchair lift lowered first grader Joe Hughes to the ground, then stuck out their hands for high-fives as the 6-year-old raced Buster, the remote-controlled toy school bus, to the front doors. Joe never stopped grinning.

Drop-offs were once tearful events for Joe, who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy when he was 2. His mom said he spent most mornings in the school’s pre-K “calming corner.” Now, he’s nicknamed the Mayor of Bel Air, thriving at a school whose staff members put him at ease.

Public schools often struggle to fund services for students with disabilities because of a decline in federal funding that forces state and local governments to make up the difference, according to the National Education Association.

Money is tight in Harford schools, which started the year with a $10 million deficit that was filled with one-time surplus funds. But Bel Air Elementary makes sure Joe has what he needs — a classroom helper, adaptive equipment for his schoolwork and a ramp to the playground — along with the special touch of his own entrance music.

“We’re just so fortunate that they’re so accommodating to him,” said his mom, Lauren Hughes.

Last week, Joe was still adapting to being back in class. He reminisced about kindergarten last year.

“I was doing letters and somehow, I did great,” he said. “Sometimes Mrs. Kass gives me a little help but, again, I’m always good, and sometimes I get some good grades.”

Maria Kass, his inclusion helper, is among the dancing entourage that greets Joe in the mornings. When they arrived in Mandy Ward’s first grade class on Monday morning, Kass helped move him from his wheelchair, decorated with a Maryland license plate sticker that read “2Fast4U,” into his school-issued activity chair.

Joe and Kass put the morning worksheet on his slant board to elevate the paper. Holding a pencil together, the two traced the word “September.”

Later that morning, when Joe joined the class’s reading circle, Kass set up his digital magnifier to help him see the book Ward was reading aloud.

Lauren Hughes, who works with students and adults with disabilities in the Maryland State Department of Education’s Division of Rehabilitation Services, said she and her husband, Geoff Hughes, wanted their son to be in the least restrictive learning environment.

“We don’t want him in an environment where he’s not able to flourish, where he’s able to just meet a minimum,” she said.

Public schools must follow the federal Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, which mandates that students with disabilities should learn alongside students without disabilities whenever possible. Failing to meet students’ needs can place them on a path to poor academic achievement, the Thomas B. Fordham Institute, an education policy advocacy group, has noted.

Joe was initially diagnosed with periventricular leukomalacia, a type of brain injury, his mom said. It led to cerebral palsy, a neurological condition that affects his movement and balance, so he uses a wheelchair. Before kindergarten started, Lauren Hughes walked through the big-kid playground with her son and school staff to see how accessible it would be.

“We’ll have maintenance come out and make sure that this drop-off isn’t as steep,” she recalled staff saying. “Or, ‘Oh, there’s not a ramp at the door? OK, we’ll make sure that there’s a ramp at the door.’”

Staff once heard him singing “As Long as You Love Me,” Hughes recalled, so they started playing Backstreet Boys songs to get him excited for the day.

Allison Bolling, a special education teacher, said she tries to find ways for Joe to interact with classmates, since he enjoys socializing. For recess, she laminated stickers Joe can use as puzzle pieces. Kids come over to play the puzzle game with him, she said.

Bolling said she has a list of other activities for Joe and his friends to do.

Outside of school, Joe plays baseball for the Miracle League of Harford County, an inclusive youth sports program.

“At the end of the game, the coach tells us to pack up all the stuff, and then we go through a large tunnel,” Joe said. “So the people make a tunnel, right? I go through it, and Dad’s saying, ‘Watch your toes, watch your toes.’”

The adults around him chuckled as Joe relayed one story after the next: his discovery of the movie “Cars,” building the “Luigi’s Mansion” Lego set. He mused about what it would be like if his wheelchair could throw shells and banana peels like the race cars in Mario Kart.

His mom isn’t exactly sure how her son, whose picture is on the school’s homepage, became so popular at Bel Air Elementary, but she knows he’s a happy kid whom people gravitate toward, like a magnet.

Bolling dubbed him the Mayor of Bel Air on her second day at the school.

“He comes in with a smile on his face,” she said. “When you see Joe, you have to smile.”

About the Education Hub

This reporting is part of The Banner’s Education Hub, community-funded journalism that provides parents with resources they need to make decisions about how their children learn. Read more.