Abstract
Objectives
Mexican federal policy provides a framework to promote education for students with disabilities such as autism through two entities: Units of Support Services for Regular Education (USAER) and Centers for Multiple Attentions (CAM). Limited research has documented caregiver experiences pursuing education for their autistic children or the educational outcomes of these students.
Methods
This qualitative study utilized a community-based participatory research approach, interviewing 11 mothers to examine: 1) caregivers lived experiences when accessing, negotiating, and maintaining special education services within the Mexican educational context, and 2) how caregivers construct advocacy roles and develop strategies to support their children’s educational access.
Results
Utilizing the borderland parentocracy framework, findings outline three themes: 1) Negative perceptions of special education in Mexico, 2) Persistence in the face of systemic barriers, and 3) Leveraging U.S. Citizenship as Educational Capital. Results document the lack of educational support for autistic students in Mexico, revealing significant discrepancies between federal law and caregiver experiences.
Conclusions
These gaps lead parents with economic resources to rely on private schools and therapeutic systems to supplement inadequate public services, highlighting systemic failures in Mexico’s special education implementation.
Keywords: Mexican special education, autism, Mexican mothers, U.S./Mexico border, borderland parentocracy, border studies
Introduction
Worldwide consensus exists regarding the principle that education is a human right, meant to be accessible to all– regardless of gender, class, race, or ability. International conferences have consistently focused on ensuring education access (e.g. Salamanca Statement of 1994, United Nations Convention on the Rights of 2006, and UN’s Sustainable Development Goals), with recent emphasis on ensuring children with disabilities (CWD) are included in all levels of education (Bani Odeh and Lach 2023). Yet, system-level factors persist among countries where education is under-resourced, impacting the infrastructure, space, and cultural acceptance of CWD attending school (Anaby et al. 2014). The latter factors are exacerbated for parents of CWD who experience financial difficulties, negative community attitudes towards CWD, and a lack of policy support for educating CWD (Abu-Ras, Saleh, and Birani 2018; Dimitrova-Radojichich and Chichevska-Jovanova 2014; Jones, Pereznieto, and Plank 2016). Mexico represents one developing country where a mismatch exists between policy support and educational access. This gap is significantly apparent for children with the developmental disability of autism spectrum disorder (ASD).
Special education in Mexico: historical development and current system
Special education in Mexico was first established in 1870 and did not experience significant growth until the 1970s with the establishment of the Dirección General de Educación Especial (General Directive of Special Education, DGEE). Under the DGEE, special education was expanded across the country and was managed independently at the state level. Special education schools were established according to disability types (e.g. physical, auditory, visual, and intellectual; Contreras and Cedillo 2013). Contreras and Cedillo (2013) describe how special education experienced broad legal changes in the 90’s that resulted in a conceptual shift from a medical to a social-educational model and prompted the integration of special and general education. The publishing of the Orientaciones generales para el funcionamiento de los servicios de educación especial1 (Secretaría de Educación Pública 2006) prompted Mexican educators to embrace a more inclusive education model as the manual looked to provide service delivery guidelines, but implementation challenges and training needs limit their application. Specifically, teachers, directors, and other school staff lack classroom support and strategies for adequately including CWD (Lavin et al. 2022; Vega Muytoy 2021).
Nonetheless, the integration of special and general education has resulted in the creation of two separate programs: Centros de Atención Multiples (CAM; Centers for Multiple Attentions) and Unidades de Servicio de Atención a la Escuela Regular (USAER; Units of Attention for Regular Education). USAERs support CWD who attend general education schools. USAER teams can consist of psychologists, school directors, teachers, support teachers (maestros de apoyo), social workers, and communication teachers (Gobierno de México 2025). USAER can provide one-on-one support within the general education classroom or in a separate classroom during and/or after school hours. In addition to providing direct student support, USAERs can also provide technical support to general education teachers, psychoeducation support to parents, and perform psychological evaluations to identify students with special education needs. Between 2019 and 2020, there were a total of 4,646 USAERs in Mexico, which supported 14.1% (27,614) of public schools from preschool through secondary school (Comisión Nacional para la Mejora Continua de la Educación 2022). When schools and/or USAER teams determine a student to be uneducable within the general education setting, they are placed in CAMs- special education schools with classroom sizes ranging between 10 and 20 students with a wide range of disabilities (Bravo Oro, Esmer, and Navarro-Calvillo 2014). The majority of special education services are concentrated in urban areas, limiting CAM accessibility to 42% of the Mexican population (Bravo Oro, Esmer, and Navarro-Calvillo 2014), especially from low socioeconomic status or indigenous Mexican populations living in rural areas (Harris and Barton 2017). Lack of funding, infrastructure, and qualified trained professionals has thwarted the development of special education in Mexico (Tuman et al. 2008), leaving parents of autistic children with limited educational options.
Autism in the Mexican educational context
The number of children requiring special education support increased dramatically from 1,595 in 2005 to 14,723 in 2017, representing 43% of Mexico’s total basic education enrollment (Secretaría de Educación Pública 2017). Special education services are particularly critical for autistic children when considering the multiple adversities Mexican families encounter while navigating the broader autism service system in Mexico. Mexican families navigate complex challenges including social isolation, cultural stigma, geographic separation from extended family support systems, and heightened rates of maternal depression (Campbell and Duarte 1993), as well as complex processes to obtain a medical autism diagnosis (Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo 2025; Zavaleta-Ramírez et al. 2024), and may be discouraged from pursuing an autism diagnosis by families and professionals who attribute autistic characteristics to sources of cultural stigma, such as a child being spoiled or mothers’ overreaction (Cohen and Miguel 2018).
Although diagnosis and short-term intervention services are offered through Sistema Nacional para el Desarrollo Integral de la Familia2 (DIF; Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo 2025), the majority of autism services are not covered by the Mexican government, resulting in families paying for support services on their own (Harris and Barton 2017). Families often must pay out-of-pocket for multiple supports, including private education, social skills training, behavioral interventions, and speech therapy—expenses that few Mexican families can afford (Bravo Oro, Esmer, and Navarro-Calvillo 2014). Although families may lean on public services such as DIF, USAER, and CAM, the limited availability and long waitlists for these services leave autistic students without the necessary services and support to adequately access an education and reach their full potential.
Special education programs such as CAM and USAER are the most common educational tracks for autistic students, who are guaranteed social and educational inclusion under two federal laws: Ley General Para la Inclusión de las Personas con Discapacidad and Ley General Para la Atención y Protección a Personas con la Condición del Espectro Autismo.3 Data from 2013 identified that only 3.5% of autistic children were receiving special education services through either USAERs or CAMs (Favela and Petteys 2022; García-Cedillo, Romero-Contreras, and Fletcher 2014). One possible explanation for this low enrollment is the scarcity of USAERs across the country, limiting the availability of psychoeducational assessments for autism, resulting in families leaning on medical providers, which further limits eligibility.
Caregiver involvement in Mexican special education
Although USAER teams develop curricular support plans and identify the necessary support services that allow CWD to be educated alongside their non-disabled peers, support is seldom implemented (García-Cedillo, Romero-Contreras, and Fletcher 2014). When institutions fail to adequately accommodate and serve CWDs, caregivers are held responsible for providing their children with the support they need and are left to advocate or pay for outside support for their children to be educated (García-Cedillo, Romero-Contreras, and Fletcher 2014). In Mexico’s special education system, caregivers face a paradoxical situation characterized by high financial responsibility coupled with limited meaningful participation in educational decision-making. Parents bear the primary financial burden for specialized support and assistive technology (García-Cedillo, Romero-Contreras, and Fletcher 2014). While policy frameworks formally position families as integral members of multidisciplinary teams responsible for psychoeducational assessments and curricular adaptation planning, actual engagement remains largely superficial and informational rather than collaborative. Research indicates that ‘parent-teacher interactions tend to be informative as teachers take little advantage of parents’ knowledge and experience to contribute to students’ academic development’ (García-Cedillo, Romero-Contreras, and Fletcher 2014, p. 80), with only 20% of parents reporting meaningful participation in formal governance structures. This limited engagement is attributed to cultural distance from school practices and inadequate teacher training in collaborative approaches with families, creating a system where caregivers shoulder significant financial obligations while being relegated to passive recipients of information rather than active partners in their children’s educational journey. Autism research has predominantly focused on screening and diagnostic procedures (Valdez et al. 2022), as well as documenting delayed diagnosis patterns (Harris and Barton 2017), with very little concerning the efficacy and availability of special education for autistic students.
U.S. vs. Mexican special education: borderland parentocracy
Similar laws exist both in Mexico and the U.S. mandating the education of autistic students (DOF 2015; IDEA 2004). Both the DOF and the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (2005) provide the legal foundations for ensuring autistic children have the necessary support to receive an education, but the implementation of the laws differs. The mandate imposed by IDEA on U.S. schools has resulted in a federal-to-state-to-district funding chain for special education services aimed at ensuring students receive ‘free and appropriate education’ (FAPE, IDEA Part B 2004). This funding is determined based on population factors, allowing for increases in funding in response to higher demand. The funding connections between IDEA and the implementation of special education allow families who do not believe their children are receiving a free and appropriate education to take legal action against those responsible. In contrast, Mexico’s special education laws do not incorporate a funding mechanism or accountability checks (Vasquez 2017, 143). Schools in Mexico are tasked with allocating resources for special education from their general budget, making special education an afterthought, as only 4.5% of Mexico’s education budget is used for special education. The SEP has attempted to address such funding barriers by creating a separate agency responsible for financial support- Programa Fortalecimiento de los Servicios de Educación Especial4 (PFSEE; Secretaría de Educación Pública 2019) to promote the education of students with disabilities such as autism. Schools may apply to receive financial assistance from PFSEE by applying for target-specific grants to support 1) academic strengthening, 2) student complementary services, and 3) specific equipment. As of 2025, no data has been released as to who has received grants from PFSEE or the impact such funding has had.
A group of Mexican parents who have leveraged social capital and other resources to mitigate the lack of resources and opportunities for their autistic children are those who live along the U.S./Mexico border. The U.S./Mexico border is characterized by its cultural, social, and economic interconnectedness, which positively impacts trade in goods, labor, and familial relationships. As a result, many families have normalized having and maintaining dual citizenship, allowing them to regularly cross the border for education, healthcare, and other vital services. Dual citizenship has historically been reserved for upper-middle-class Mexican families with connections to the U.S., who could sustain this dual lifestyle, but has increasingly become a tool for social mobility by border residents (Kleyn and Porter 2021). Parents of autistic children who live along the U.S./Mexico border exercise what Tessman and Koyoma (2017) coined as borderland parentocracy, intentional practices from border parents who see U.S.-based education as a path towards upward social mobility. Tessman and Koyama (2017) foundational work documented how parents of neurotypical children strategically established educational trajectories that enabled their children to access American schooling by virtue of their U.S. citizenship, while maintaining residence in Mexico’s border region, a strategy to mitigate low socioeconomic resources that continues to be used today. Recent scholarship examining border families of autistic children reveals additional complexities that distinguish their experiences from those documented in earlier borderland parentocracy research. Families of autistic children at the border navigate educational access, but also broader life trajectory planning for their autistic children. The comparative analysis that border parents of autistic children undertake reflects what can be understood as strategic decision-making within constrained circumstances—parents consistently evaluate educational and life opportunities across both countries while recognizing Mexico’s limited social safety net for autistic individuals transitioning to adulthood. While Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo (2025) documented the migratory motivations of parents following their pursuit of autism services for their children, this work did not examine the educational experiences or academic trajectories that inform cross-border decisions.
Current study
Documented barriers for autism support and services in Mexico highlight the need to examine potential facilitators for the equitable pursuit of education as a human right for autistic people. Although special education policies and infrastructure exist, the lack of autistic children enrolled in special education services signals that the Mexican education system is inadequately serving autistic students, a gap that will continue to expand without close analysis and reform. The current study sought to document the lived experiences of caregivers as they pursued special education services for their autistic children from the fall of 2021 to the spring of 2022, informed by the borderland parentocracy framework. We asked the following research questions:
What are the lived experiences of border caregivers when accessing, negotiating, and maintaining special education services for their autistic children within the Mexican educational context?
How do border caregivers construct and negotiate their advocacy roles within the special education system, and what strategies do they develop to support their children’s educational access?
Method
We engaged in qualitative methodological approaches through the use of thematic categorical analysis (Saldaña 2021) to document and analyze the lived experiences of Mexican mothers who pursued special education for their autistic children while living on the U.S./Mexico border. Thematic categorical analysis allows data to be analyzed for salient and recurring patterns and themes, which lead to the synthesis of themes.
Recruitment and screening
The current study utilized community-based participatory research methods implemented through a two-phase approach. Initial engagement occurred with autism service providers affiliated with a state public health agency in Tijuana, Baja California, an organization dedicated to advancing child welfare and supporting Mexican citizens from economically disadvantaged backgrounds. Subsequently, caregivers residing in the border region who were parents of children with autism spectrum disorder were recruited for participation in the research material development process.
The study employed a qualitative methodological framework to examine and interpret the lived experiences of caregivers accessing an education for their autistic children along the U.S.-Mexico border. Community collaborators facilitated recruitment efforts by functioning as strategic partners in achieving a purposeful sampling design. While recruitment efforts were designed to include all primary caregivers, the final participant pool consisted exclusively of mothers.
Participants
Participant recruitment utilized a combination of purposeful and snowball sampling strategies implemented across multiple avenues. Primary recruitment occurred through digital community platforms where Tijuana-based caregivers actively seek autism-related resources, including specialized groups such as ‘Autismo Tijuana’. Additional recruitment efforts targeted border community networks, including groups like ‘¿Cómo esta la línea?’5 that serve cross-border populations. Community partnerships also facilitated participant referrals, expanding the recruitment network through established local connections.
Interested participants could initiate contact with the research team through multiple communication channels, including email, telephone, and WhatsApp. The inclusion criteria specified caregivers of children with autism spectrum disorder aged 2–17 years who met the following criteria: (1) had a child with a confirmed autism diagnosis, (2) attended public or private education, and (3) were contemplating pursuing special education in the U.S.
The recruitment process spanned five months, during which 21 mothers initially expressed interest in study participation. Of these interested participants, 13 completed both consent documentation and demographic questionnaires. However, only 11 mothers ultimately completed the full interview protocol after deciding not to participate. All participants received a copy of their signed consent form for their personal records. At the conclusion of the recruitment period, no additional eligible participants were identified or agreed to participate in the study, indicating recruitment saturation had been achieved. All participants were compensated for their time with a $25 gift card of their choice.
Interview protocol
Community collaborators and the first author co-created the semi-structured interview protocols. The interview protocol was established in Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo (2025), which utilized a Community-Based Participatory Research approach with border communities. The protocol included key topics of diagnostic pathway, service access, educational experiences, and comparative views of special education systems in both Mexico and the U.S. The collaborative development process involved autism service providers, Mexican psychologists offering autism services, and Mexican mothers of autistic children in the border region (for comprehensive details on community collaboration establishment and protocol co-creation, see Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo 2025). All interviews were conducted in Spanish by the first author via Zoom or WhatsApp audio. The audio files from Zoom and WhatsApp were then downloaded and saved onto an encrypted hard drive.
Research identities
All four authors are members of the Latine community and identify as bilingual and bicultural; three are first-generation immigrants, while one is a fourth-generation member of an immigrant family. The first author is a cisgender Mexican woman with two autistic siblings who received autism services on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border. The second author is a Mexican cisgender woman whose undocumented parents leveraged their social resources to secure a U.S.-based elementary education for her by virtue of her U.S. citizenship. This personal experience of navigating borderland parentocracy informs her approach to this research.
The third author is a cisgender Mexican-American woman whose educational background has centered on autism research. The fourth author is a cisgender Mexican-American woman who identifies as transfronteriza, as she lives in Mexico, worked in the U.S., and contributed to the research focused on autism in the U.S.-Mexico border.
Data analysis
Thematic
Spanish audio recordings were obtained via Zoom or WhatsApp and transcribed with Sonix.ai. Spanish transcriptions were further reviewed by two independent Spanish heritage speakers for accuracy. No English translations of the transcripts were produced, as all authors of the current paper were fluent Spanish speakers. We conducted a deductive qualitative analysis using a codebook adapted from Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo (2025). During the initial stages of coding, the first and second coders removed codes that did not align with the dataset and developed new descriptive codes to highlight subtle patterns and newly emerging meanings within participants’ narratives. This strategy allowed for a more comprehensive examination of the many themes that would emerge. To ensure consistency in code application, the first and second authors collaboratively coded one transcript. This process helped establish a shared understanding of the code definitions and allowed for preliminary discussions about possible modifications. We then independently coded an additional transcript to further train on the revised codebook. After this round, we calculated inter-rater reliability (IRR) and met to discuss discrepancies, refining the codebook to clarify definitions and merge overlapping codes where appropriate. A second round of training was conducted on another transcript, after which we reached an acceptable IRR of 75%. Following the establishment of IRR, transcripts were randomly assigned to each coder for independent coding.
All coding was conducted using Taguette, a free and open-source tool for qualitative research. We then conducted a thematic analysis to identify patterns across the data. Interpretation of the themes was guided by the theoretical framework of Borderland Parentocracy (Tessman and Koyama 2017), which examines how families—particularly those navigating systemic inequalities shaped by immigration status, race, and socioeconomic class—make decisions and advocate for their children within educational systems. This lens allowed us to explore not only what participants said, but also how their perspectives were shaped by broader socio-political contexts. This approach allowed for the identification of both expected and emergent themes while centering the lived experiences of participants within a critical sociocultural framework. Following language sovereignty practices from previous scholars, we provide direct quotes in Spanish to maintain the authenticity of the data and to center the lived experiences of participants (Fierros and Delgado Bernal 2016). English translations are provided as footnotes.
Results
Demographics
A total of 11 mothers (average age 36) participated in the current study (see Table 1 for socioeconomic and other demographic details). A central theme across responses was the significant financial investment in both private schooling and therapeutic services (see Table 2). The monthly cost of schooling ranged from approximately $74.59 to $234.42 (1,400–4,400 pesos), with most participants whose children attended private schools reporting expenses within this bracket. One participant reported a monthly schooling cost between $79.91-$106.55 (1,500–2,000 pesos) while another indicated a combined monthly cost of schooling and services of $1,065.53 (20,000 pesos). These figures reflect a considerable portion of household income, especially for those in lower income brackets. In terms of therapeutic services, costs varied based on frequency and type of support accessed. Reported monthly costs ranged from approximately $74.59 to $532.77 (1,400–10,000 pesos). Weekly or biweekly private therapy sessions were associated with mid-range costs (e.g. $106.55–$255.73; 2,000–4,800 P), while more intensive services (e.g. four sessions per week) were reported at the higher end ($532.77; 10,000 P). Participants who reported receiving publicly funded services did not report service expenditure amounts. Reported income levels ranged from less than 10,000 pesos ($532.77) to over 100,000 pesos ($5,327.65) annually, while others reported incomes in U.S. dollars ranging from $10,000 to over $60,000. When comparing school type, participants whose children attended public schools (n = 2) reported minimal or no direct educational expenses, although one still reported service-related costs (e.g. $106.55; 2,000 pesos). In contrast, those whose children were enrolled in private schools consistently reported both tuition-related and out-of-pocket service monthly costs (e.g. $394.25- $1,065.53; 7,400 − 20,000 P). The current currency exchange rate is 18.77 Mexican pesos per U.S. dollar.
Table 1.
Participant demographic socioeconomic information.
| Participant | Age | Education level | Income category | Child’s age | Child’s age of diagnosis | Child’s sex |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Patricia | 37 | BA | $30,000–$39,000 (D) | 15 | 2 | Male |
| Paulina | 36 | BA | 10,000–19,000(P) | 9 | 3.5 | Female |
| Lourdes | 37 | Some Middle School | 70,000–79,000 (P) | 21 | 3 | Male |
| Maria Jose | 42 | BA | $10,000–$19,000 (D) | 14 | 2 | Male |
| Stefania | 29 | BA | 100,000+ (P) | 6 | 3 | Male |
| Manuela | 30 | Technical School | $60,000–$69,000 (D) | 4 | 3 | Male |
| Cassandra | 51 | Technical School | $10,000–$19,000(D) | 16 | 3 | Male |
| Camila | 33 | Some College | 70,000–79,000 (P) | 5 | 3 | Male |
| Julieta | 33 | Masters | 40,000–49,000 (P) | 7 | 2 | Male |
| Eva Corina | 34 | Some Middle School | 9,999 or less (P) | 6 | 5 | Male |
| Michelle | 34 | Masters | $10,000–$19,000 (D) | 3 | 1.1 | Male |
Note. D = dollars and P = pesos.
Table 2.
Participant schooling and support services.
| Participant | School classification | Type of support systems | Monthly cost of schooling | Monthly cost of services* |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Patricia | Private | Speech therapy, Behavioral therapy, Maestra Sombra | Combined cost of 20,000 (P) | |
| Paulina | Private | Weekly in school therapy session(s), Maestra Sombra | 15,000 (P) | 600(P); 8,000 (P) |
| Lourdes | Public | CAM*, Weekly educational private therapy | 2,000(P) | |
| Maria Jose | Private | Private educational therapy four times a week; USAER | 1,500(P) | 10,000 (P) |
| Stefania | Private | – | 2,600 (P) | – |
| Manuela | Private | – | 4,000 (D) | – |
| Cassandra | Private | Private education therapy two times a week | 4,000 (D) | 3,400 (D) |
| Camila | Private | – | 2,700 (D) | – |
| Julieta | Private | – | 1,500-2,000 (P) | |
| Eva Corina | Public | – | – | – |
| Michelle | Private | Private education therapy 1 time a week, EI services in San Diego | 4,000 (P) | 4,800 (P) |
Note. CAM = Centros de Atención Múltiples, USAER = Unidades de Servicio de Apoyo a la Educación. D = Dollars; P = Pesos- The currency identified in the table is the currency mothers used to pay for services.
Thematic analysis
The application of Tessman’s and Koyama’s (2017) borderland paretocracy framework to the semi-structured interviews resulted in three themes: 1) Negative perceptions of special education in Mexico, 2) Persistence in the face of systemic barriers, and 3) Leveraging U.S. citizenship as educational capital. See Figure 1 for the conceptual model relating themes to the framework.
Figure 1.

Conceptual model of borderland parentocracy framework and emergent themes.
Note. This conceptual model illustrates the relationship between the borderland parentocracy framework and three emergent themes from semi-structured interviews with parents of autistic children.
Negative perceptions of special education in Mexico
The Mexican mothers in the current study described their perceptions of Mexican special education as negative due to limited accessibility, options, knowledge, and positive outcomes for their children. From the very beginning of their child’s autism journey, service providers were pessimistic about the educational opportunities their autistic children would have. Paulina shared that when her daughter was diagnosed with autism, the provider also told her to accept that her daughter would not be able to learn: Ella me dijo que estaba en grado 2, que era funcional, pero que si iba a necesitar mucho apoyo de mi parte, que ella no iba a poder ir a la escuela por el aprendizaje.6 The service provider justified her claim that the recently diagnosed autistic child would not be able to attend school due to the child’s high support needs, alluding that the school would not be able to meet them. For Paulina, hearing that her child would not be able to attend school was doloroso,7 as the solution the service provider offered was for Paulina to stay with her daughter at all times.
Mothers also faced educational barriers in later years. They struggled to find general education schools that would accept their children, could not access disability services, or were placed on long wait lists for special education schools.
Lourdes described how her son was on a waitlist for five years for the public special education school and ended up moving from one border city to another.
Bueno, él tenía como unos 12 o 13 años cuando yo lo inscribí al CAM especial aquí en Tijuana. Desde mucho antes de eso, él yo busqué muchas ayudas allá en Mexicali por parte del DIF, por parte de CAM, de todos, pero para que a él le abrieran las puertas, a él para que estudiara, porque él perdió mucho tiempo en no estudiar, pues perdió casi como que serán unos cinco años.8
Lourdes described how she was looking for a school that would educate her son, but was unsuccessful. During the five years that Lourdes’ son was on the waitlist, he did not receive any form of education. Lourdes attempted to find a private school that would accept her son, but even when willing to pay for services, she was unable to access them.
Mexican mothers who had the means to access private special education were unsatisfied. Cassandra reflected on how her 21-year-old son would soon have no educational opportunities. She disappointedly described her son’s educational experience: En realidad no hay, no hay una. Todo es pagar.9 Cassandra shared that even though she was willing and able to pay for different educational programs, there was no ‘real’ program that resulted in adequate progress. Her emphasis on having to ‘pay’ for services highlighted how financial barriers limited accessibility and equity in educational services. Other mothers faced similar financial challenges—some had to move in with their parents to afford the support their child needed, while others had to reduce the days their child attended school to lower tuition costs.
Persistence in the face of systemic barriers
Although the current sample of Mexican mothers encountered various barriers, they adamantly pursued educational avenues. Mothers actively sought educational institutions that would accommodate their children, even when these schools said they would have to provide instruction below grade-level standard or request that they provide a Maestra Sombra.10 Manuela outlined her experience as she approached a school while actively looking for a general education placement.
No, no me dijeron que ocupaba una maestra sombra porque ni siquiera me daban la opción de quedarme en una escuela regular, me lo quería mandar siempre a una escuela especial. Y es que cuando yo he pedido, cuando estuve tocando puertas en colegios, ellos me pedían a mí que llevara una sombra, pero porque ellos no estaban preparados para como saber.’nosotros nunca hemos tenido una pertenencia a un con alguna condición y más si tiene autismo tienes que traer una sombra, porque realmente no sabemos cómo va a trabajar’, …Entonces siempre fue así como que ‘nosotros no estamos listos, pero si quieres, claro’, pero …hasta ahorita en el colegio, no lo ha necesitado y ha trabajado, ha respondido muy bien en el colegio.11
Manuela describes how general education schools would turn her away and tell her to pursue special education schools without observing or assessing her son’s educational needs. Although Manuela found schools that would enroll her, she had to provide one-on-one support, a Maestra Sombra. Further, the school staff directly told her they were not trained or equipped to teach an autistic child, but were willing to try if Manuela wanted to, as long as she provided the one-on-support. This quote highlights how families are often steered away from inclusive settings and made responsible for compensating for schools’ lack of preparedness.
When Mothers were not able to find appropriate educational placements, they attempted to supplement their child’s education with educational therapies. As an example, Maria Jose had found a private education school where to enroll her son, but they did not provide any special education services. Maria Jose recognized that her son needed additional support to succeed academically and was able to make the sacrifice of paying for additional private therapy: No sé que eran como unos 500–600 dólares al mes. No sé. Todo mi sueldo en ese entonces era como que será, como 10 mil pesos al mes. Terapias y eso porque prácticamente le pagabamos a la psicóloga, todo su sueldo y aparte eran todas esas terapias extras.12 The importance placed on the need for educational support is emphasized by Maria Jose’s willingness to spend her entire salary on such therapies. At the same time, mothers supplemented their child’s education with U.S. therapists who were willing to travel to Tijuana. Paulina shared how she found a U.S.-based applied behavioral analysis (ABA) company, which provided therapies transnationally, allowing Paulina to receive in-home services in Tijuana. Paulina recognized how the therapy was outside of their budget, but the results they saw with her daughter made it worthwhile, Són psicólogos del otro lado. Muy efectiva la terapia. Cara para mis posibilidades, no, si lo hacía, lo intenté un mes pagar, pero por sesión eran 30 dólares por hora, tenían que ser dos horas, por lo menos a 4 horas a la semana, pues pagaba 120 horas a la semana para que le dieran terapia. Si la niña, si la verdad.Yo la verdad vi que evolucionó mucho.13 Paulina had to stop the therapy due to a loss of employment, but was planning on restarting the therapy once her financial situation improved.
Leveraging U.S. citizenship as educational capital
As mothers persistently navigated multiple unsuccessful educational options for their autistic children, they looked to leverage U.S. citizenship to pursue U.S.-based special education. Mothers mentioned various reasons as to why and how special education in the U.S. would fill the gaps in their child’s education. Special education in the U.S. was identified as having legal foundations, evidence-based programs, support services, and adult-transition programs– vital elements that mothers could not find in Mexico. Michelle saw the possibility of a U.S. based special education as a close hypothetical, as she reflected on her son’s future, Si aquí en Tijuana no encontrará una escuela - ahorita tiene tres años, no es curricular ni nada- una escuela que fuera adecuada para él, o una terapia este o ya fuera muy caro tenerlo aquí en terapias que no me fuera costeable. Me iría allá a San Diego. Me da la oportunidad. Pues sí.14 Even though Michelle’s son was only three years old, she recognized that she would pursue special education in the U.S. if she could not find adequate or affordable education support for her autistic son in Mexico. Michelle’s sentiment demonstrates the intentional and exhaustive process border mothers of autistic children engage in and how a U.S. special education is seen as a viable but last resort, as mothers maintain hope that adequate special education will become available in Mexico.
Lourdes similarly engaged in intentional planning to pave a path for her son to have access to U.S. special education, Esto es lo que estamos buscando nosotros para pues para mis hijos, el que ellos, que ellos puedan hacerse ciudadanos por parte de mi mamá. Por lo mismo de las escuelas, porque estamos buscando un mejor estudio para mi hijo, mi hijo que tiene autismo.15 Lourdes shared how she was in the process of securing dual citizenship for her children in hopes that they would have access to educational opportunities. The lack of educational options was felt most by mothers whose autistic children were approaching young adulthood. Maria Jose felt this, as her son would soon start high school and was looking to have her son move in with his grandmother and attend the local public high school. Y aunque él esté viviendo allá …Yo necesito estar obviamente en seguimiento con él, apoyándolo y eso porque no quiero dejarle esa carga a su abuela. No, yo creo que es parte del retraso o de que no me he decidido que se vaya para allá, no, porque él, René, es mi niño, mi hijo y yo sé exactamente lo conozco. Y dejarle la responsabilidad a alguien más. No es fácil, no?.16 Maria Jose shared how the thought of her son being away was worrisome, but she also knew that her son would have better opportunities.
Discussion
We expand on borderland parentocracy by drawing on the lived experiences of borderland families of children with autism to illustrate how social capital, immigrant status, dis/ability, binational citizenship, cross-border mobility, linguistic resources, institutional knowledge across educational systems, and collective resistance networks provide unique forms of cultural capital for marginalized groups that are often not centered in dominant ideologies (Yosso 2005). Our study demonstrates how Mexican mothers in the U.S./Mexico border strategically deployed their knowledge, agency, and resources to advocate for their children’s education within systemic constraints, turning to U.S. special education services only when other options were exhausted. In addition, the mix of income currencies highlights the cross-border or binational context of some families and adds complexity to understanding financial burden. It expands on borderland parentocracy for CWD by demonstrating how parentocracy manifests differently for families of autistic children, functioning more as a survival strategy and not just aspirational mobility. For Mexican families of autistic children living at the border, leveraging their children’s U.S. citizenship becomes a necessary response to service gaps. We illustrate some of the ways Mexican mothers persist and resist systemic barriers; community knowledge sharing, networks of mothers sharing strategies across socioeconomic lines, and collective resistance to exclusionary practices.
Resistance capital and maternal advocacy
Mothers in our study challenge deficit oriented and ableists views towards educational access held by some professionals in Mexico, by questioning diagnostic prognoses no va ir a la escuela por lo del apredinzaje17 and refusing school placements when inappropriate, No, no me dijeron que ocupaba una maestra sombra porque ni siquiera me daban la opción de quedarme en una escuela regular18 and persist even when they are told their child cannot be educated in general education and demand inclusive education despite institutional resistance, Entonces siempre fue así como que ‘nosotros no estamos listos, pero si quieres, claro,’ pero decidí que sí …y ha trabajado, ha respondido muy bien en el colegio.19 Like other studies examining transborder families of autistic children, the mothers in our study demonstrate unique forms of cross-border education and therapy arrangements (Castellón, Dueñas, and Luelmo 2025; Dueñas et al. in press), and negotiate and supervise shadow teacher arrangements on their own (García-Cedillo, Romero-Contreras, and Fletcher 2014).
Like Tessman and Koyama (2017) mothers in this study were willing and determined to provide access to education for their children at high costs– like Maria Jose who relinquished parental rights by sending her child to their grandmother in the U.S. They compared educational systems across borders, recognizing that while Mexico has special education laws and policies, these lack legal enforcement and sustainable funding mechanisms, making it unfeasible for schools to provide the necessary support and training required to convince educators to include their children in inclusive educational settings.
Collective borderland parentocracy for CWD
While previous borderland parentocracy research focused on individual parents, mothers in this study demonstrate how they engage in collective parentocracy, as parents of CWD who are U.S. citizens advise and consult with each other to facilitate this transition, que ellos puedan hacerse ciudadanos por parte de mi mamá.20 However, although this informal network of collective parentocracy exists, it highlights how cross-border knowledge transfer is not supported by existing systems. The development of formal interdisciplinary partnerships spanning international borders could significantly strengthen the resources available to EI specialists, special education professionals, families, and policy developers as they work collaboratively to improve service delivery and inclusion of CWD in public schools in Mexico (Vázquez García 2018). Such institutionalized frameworks could bridge the gap between informal parental networks and formal support structures, creating sustainable mechanisms for shared expertise and resource coordination across national boundaries.
Mothers engaging in borderland parentocracy possess extensive funds of knowledge that warrant recognition and incorporation into special education and broader social service frameworks. Drawing from Moll et al.’s (1992) seminal work on funds of knowledge, we argue that mothers exhibit ‘strategic transnational knowledge’—a complex set of skills and competencies developed through their navigation of cross-border educational systems. This knowledge manifests in several key domains: cross-border navigation expertise, a nuanced understanding of complex legal, educational, and bureaucratic systems that span national boundaries. This expertise represents years of accumulated knowledge about immigration policies, educational residency requirements, and institutional procedures that most professionals would find challenging to navigate. They possess institutional knowledge that reveals their understanding of both Mexican and U.S. educational systems, including critical awareness of each system’s strengths and limitations. This comparative institutional analysis enables them to make informed decisions about their children’s educational trajectories—decisions that professionals often make without such comprehensive cross-system knowledge. Their advocacy and networking skills further demonstrate sophisticated social capital, as mothers actively connect with other parents, share vital information, and engage in collective problem-solving that extends well beyond individual family needs.
Binational special education literacy, collaborations, and innovation
We must build bicultural special education literacy for communities serving CWD living along the U.S./Mexico border. Recognizing mothers’ funds of knowledge has significant implications for how special education systems and social service agencies approach cross-border families. Rather than viewing families through deficit lenses that focus on what they may lack (e.g. English ‘proficiency’, familiarity with U.S. systems, traditional forms of school involvement), professionals should recognize the extensive knowledge and skills they possess. This shift requires moving from a transmission model—where professionals provide information to supposedly uninformed parents—to a collaborative model that recognizes parents as experts in their own right. The funds of knowledge framework suggests that educational institutions should actively seek to understand and incorporate the strategic knowledge mothers possess. This could involve inviting mothers to serve as cultural consultants in educational planning, recognizing their cross-border experiences as valuable resources for other families, and developing policies that support rather than undermine their educational advocacy strategies.
The U.S./Mexico border has long operated as a site of innovation propelled by the diversity of experiences and necessities of the citizens residing along the border. The development of navigational knowledge from border mothers follows such a pattern and offers a unique opportunity to trial novel educational models such as binational education initiatives. Binational education initiatives have been newly implemented between Baja California and California through Assembly Bill 91 (Alvarez 2023), which grants in-state community college tuition for U.S. citizen students who live within 45 miles of the U.S./Mexico border. This partnership recognizes the fluid nature of the U.S./Mexico border by taking joint responsibility in promoting educational access and affordability by prioritizing the development of border citizens. AB 91 opens the door for future paths of educational innovation and creative utilization of school choice programs, such as vouchers, a traditional parentocracy tool.
Binational policy coordination
AB 91 has created official recognition of the educational path of transborder students, those who live in Mexico while attending school in the U.S. This effort follows the precedents of binational insurance companies that support U.S. employees to receive medical care in Mexico (SIMNSA Health Care n.d.). The established policies that support the livelihood of transfronterizo citizens serve as a blueprint for the creation of binational education policies that will support improved outcomes and academic achievement for autistic students. This pathway would allow for therapists and educators who serve students across border lines to connect and engage in collaborative problem-solving. Such collaboration would result in the continuous tracking of students’ educational outcomes as all members of the service team would now be in communication, a feat that only a small number of providers currently accomplish (Orendain Soto et al. 2025).
Limitations and future research directions
The findings of the current study have various limitations. As all participants in the study were mothers, the current study lacks the perspectives of educators and other professionals who may have differing perceptions towards cross-border special education advocacy. Future research could implement interview protocols with both families and professionals (including teachers, administrators, therapists, and social workers) to capture comprehensive experiences of cross-border special education pursuit. In addition, as the interviews with border mothers explored their experiences primarily from the family perspective, the results are limited as they do not provide insights into how professionals understand and respond to these cross-border educational strategies. Future studies could expand recruitment criteria to include educators and service providers who have worked with transfronterizo families, to provide a more complete understanding of the systemic factors that influence these educational decisions.
While our sample is representative of mothers living alongside the U.S./Mexico border, these findings are unique to an urban border in California, and these experiences may not generalize to families living in rural borders or other border communities along Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. Urban border cities like Tijuana-San Diego represent highly developed binational metropolitan areas with established infrastructure for cross-border movement, including multiple ports of entry, extensive public transportation networks, and concentrated educational and healthcare resources. In contrast, rural border communities often face significant geographic isolation, limited transportation options, and sparse service infrastructure that may fundamentally alter families’ ability to engage in borderland parentocracy practices. Future research must also follow the development of binational policy implementation. Equitable implementation is crucial for addressing the lack of satisfaction and barriers experienced with Mexican Special Education.
Conclusion
This qualitative study provides further evidence establishing caregivers of CWD as innovators and determined advocates, extending this understanding to the previously understudied U.S./Mexico border region. It establishes special education as a shared responsibility, following the example of other Baja-California initiatives (San Diego Regional Policy & Innovation Center 2024). The ever-growing socio-economic relationship along the U.S.-Mexico border prompts the need for systemic reform informed by family experiences. Such knowledge from families may contribute to binational cooperative initiatives, resulting in solutions for the shared issue of special education accessibility and quality for Latine autistic students. However, transborder families remain caught between two systems with no binational support, their strategic borderland parentocracy unrecognized by policymakers in either country.
Notes
General Guidelines for the operation of Special Education Services
National System for an Integral Development of the Family.
General Law for the Inclusion of Persons with disabilities and General Law for the Care and protection of Persons with Autism
Program to Strengthen Special Education Services.
What is the current waiting time at the border?.
She told me [my daughter] has autism level 2, that she was functional, but that she would need a lot of support from me, that she wouldn’t be able to go to school because of learning disabilities.
Painful.
Well, he was about 12 or 13 years old when I enrolled him in the special CAM program here in Tijuana. Long before that, I sought out a lot of help back in Mexicali from the DIF, CAM, and everyone, but just so they would open the doors for him so that he could study, because he wasted a lot of time by not studying, well, he wasted almost five years.
Actually, there isn’t one. It’s all about paying.
Shadow Teacher (Teacher assistant)
No, they didn’t tell me that he needed a shadow teacher because they didn’t even give me the option of staying in a regular school; they always wanted to send him to a special school. And the thing is that when I asked, when I was knocking on doors at schools, they asked me to bring a shadow, but because they were not prepared to know how. ‘We have never had belonging with someone with a condition, and even more if they have autism you have to bring a shadow, because we really don’t know how they are going to work,’ … So it was always like, ‘we are not ready, but if you want, sure,’ but … up until now at the school, he has not needed it and he has worked, he has responded very well at school.
I don’t know what it was like $500-$600 a month. I don’t know. My entire salary back then was, like, they’re starting to retrieve, like 10,000 pesos a month ($ 570.78 U.S. dollars). Therapy and that, because we practically paid the psychologist her entire salary, and on top of that, all those extra therapies.
They’re psychologists on the other side of the border (Mexico). The therapy is very effective. It’s expensive for me, no. I tried to pay for it for a month, but it was $30 an hour per session. It had to be a two or four-hour session per week, so we paid 120 hours weekly for therapy. The girl, yes, the truth, I saw that she developed a lot.
If he can’t find a school here in Tijuana—he’s three right now, so it’s not a curriculum or anything—a school that’s suitable for him, or a therapy, or it’s too expensive to have him in therapy here that I can’t afford. I’d go to San Diego. It gives me the opportunity. So yes.
This is what we’re pursuing for my children: so they can become U.S. citizens with the support of my mother. For the same reason as for schools, because we’re seeking better education for my son, my son who has autism.
And even though he’s living in the U.S.… I obviously need to follow up with him and support him because I don’t want to leave that burden on his grandmother. No, I think it’s part of the delay, or that I haven’t decided for him to go there because he is my child, my son, and I know exactly who he is. And leaving the responsibility to someone else. It’s not easy, right?.
He’s not going to go to school because of the learning.
No, they didn’t tell me I needed a shadow teacher because they didn’t even give me the option of staying in a regular school.
So it was always like, ‘We’re not ready, but if you want, sure,’ but I decided to [enroll him at the school]…and he’s worked, he’s responded really well in school.
They can become U.S. citizens with the support of my mother.
Compliance with ethical standards
All participants consented to the study, and the study received institutional review board (IRB) approval from the University of California, Los Angeles (IRB#21-001261).
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.
Data availability statement
Due to the private and sensitive nature of data, data sets generated during the current study are available from the corresponding author and will only be considered under specific and reasonable request.
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Associated Data
This section collects any data citations, data availability statements, or supplementary materials included in this article.
Data Availability Statement
Due to the private and sensitive nature of data, data sets generated during the current study are available from the corresponding author and will only be considered under specific and reasonable request.
