What if adults can’t handle disability history the way young people can?
That’s what’s on my mind after conducting the video interview above with two remarkable high school researchers who looked into a dark disability history for their National History Day (NHD) project at Needham High School in Needham, Massachusetts.
I hope you’ll watch and share this interview, which ends with their 10 minute NHD video about the infamous Willowbrook State School. Below, I’ve written a quick bit of background to set the stage for this week’s edition of (Un)Hidden: Disability Histories and Our World.
What Makes Historical Significance?
Last fall, I heard from Paul Wexler, an accomplished educator who has taught history and debate in the Boston area for decades. He told me that some students in the western suburbs of Boston were interested in delving into disability history for something called National History Day. Specifically, they were looking into New York’s Willowbrook State School.
Willowbrook was a horrifying mass institution for disabled people that was at the heart of the fight for disability human rights in the 1970s. Tenth grade Needham High School students Frederick Goodman, Gavin Berardi, and Ethan Bright were captivated by a 1972 TV expose by former journalist Geraldo Rivera, who broke into Willowbrook and filmed disabled people being detained in conditions akin to a concentration camp.
(Among them was disability rights leader Bernard Carabello, who spoke with me a few months ago about the election of Zohran Mamdani).
Goodman, Berardi, and Bright’s work is an act of serious dedication. As best I can tell, National History Day projects are an added amount of intensive study (for no additional class credit) that young people take up because they want to learn about history that might not be taught in the classroom.
I hesitate to get too wonky, but establishing a case for historical significance with any event or story in history is really hard to do. Doing it in ten minutes is harder. But that’s what they’ve done. After I watched it their film, I felt drawn back to my days as an 11th grade history teacher. I desperately wanted to know how this project had shaped their thinking and their views.
Despite busy high school schedules, Ethan and Frederick carved out some time to entertain my questions and I found their reflections on disability history, its relationship to modern education, and the implications for disability rights both eloquent and essential. I hope you will do. You can watch the full video of the interview and their NHD film above, and a rough transcript is included below.
*A special thank you teachers Elaine Priovolos and Kenneth Brooke, whose history classes were the nexus for this work.
Interview Transcript
Alex Green: So, let’s just dive in. Go ahead and introduce yourselves — your names, where you’re at in school, and what grade you’re in.
Ethan Bright: I’m Ethan. I’m a sophomore at Needham High School.
Frederick Goodman: And I’m Frederick, and I’m also a sophomore at Needham High School. We were both partners on our National History Day project, along with Gavin, who unfortunately could not make it.
Alex Green: Right on. So tell us a little bit — what is National History Day? What’s the project that you have to do? How do people participate in this?
Frederick: In sophomore year history at our school, anyone taking Accelerated, which is the highest level they offer, has to do National History Day. It’s a really big research project where you participate in the National History Day competition. They give us about three or four months to research, create an outline, and then produce a final project.
You can choose from several formats. You can create a physical exhibit using a poster board, make a documentary — which is what we did — build a website, or perform a play. We made a documentary about the Willowbrook State School.
Ethan: Our theme this year was “Revolution, Reaction, Reform.” We had to find a topic that demonstrated all three aspects. We looked at Willowbrook and thought it fit perfectly.
Alex Green: That’s fantastic. So you spend months on this project. How did you come to pick Willowbrook in the first place?
Frederick: We were originally referred to the Fernald School in Boston by our debate coach, who actually knew you. That’s why we first looked into it. We tried to pursue that topic, but the teachers reviewing proposals denied it because they felt there weren’t enough accessible resources.
So we searched for similar institutions with more documentation. That’s when we found Willowbrook — a similar institution with extensive documentation, documentaries, and lawsuits.
Ethan: During our initial research, what stood out to me was how much documentation was available about Willowbrook. Seeing that shocked me and made me want to continue researching.
Alex Green: Did you have any ties to this issue before researching it? Did you know anything about disability history?
Ethan: Not really. For me, it was mostly the shock of seeing how something like Willowbrook could exist. I wasn’t familiar with institutional conditions before this, so everything was new. I learned a lot through the process.
Frederick: None of us had personal ties to the disability community. But once we started researching, we were struck by the scale of injustice. We also realized we had never learned about this in school, which made us even more interested.
Alex Green: For people who may not know — what was the Willowbrook State School?
Frederick: Willowbrook was an institution founded in the late 1940s and operated until 1987. Institutions like it were influenced by eugenicist beliefs. People with mental disabilities were segregated from society, often at the urging of physicians who pressured families.
Once inside, residents were severely neglected and abused. At Willowbrook, there was massive overcrowding and understaffing — at one point one worker for every fifty children. Residents were often left unclothed, unattended, and without stimulation.
We also discovered the hepatitis experiments conducted there. Because nearly all residents contracted hepatitis within six months due to unsanitary conditions, researchers deliberately infected children to study the disease. They injected hepatitis or fed contaminated material mixed with chocolate milk. Parents were promised better dorms or potential vaccines in exchange for consent.
Eventually, exposés — especially the 1972 documentary by Geraldo Rivera — revealed the conditions. Public outrage and lawsuits followed, leading to Willowbrook’s closure and broader institutional reform.
Ethan: When you look up Willowbrook, the images are overwhelming. William Bronson’s photo series “Christmas in Purgatory” and Rivera’s documentary show shocking scenes of abuse and neglect. Seeing that was incredibly powerful.
Alex Green: Do you see aspects of this history reflected in the world today?
Frederick: Yes. Even though deinstitutionalization happened, there’s still separation — including stigma around disability. Special education classes aren’t always fully integrated. Progress has been made, but it’s not perfect.
Ethan: Institutions still exist in other forms. Prisons, for example, house many people with mental illnesses. So institutions didn’t fully disappear — they evolved.
Frederick: And we still don’t learn about this in school, which is surprising given how impactful it was.
Alex Green: Why do you think we don’t learn about it?
Frederick: It’s uncomfortable. The images and stories are disturbing. Maybe schools avoid it because it feels too sensitive.
Ethan: It’s also a shameful part of American history. This wasn’t centuries ago — many people involved are still alive. That closeness makes it harder to confront.
Alex Green: What reactions did you get from classmates or teachers?
Frederick: Mostly shock. Many had no idea this happened. They were disturbed by the atrocities but also interested in learning about it.
Ethan: People recognized Geraldo Rivera’s name, but not this story specifically. It felt hidden from mainstream history education.
Alex Green: If you could add disability history into high school curriculum, what would be a good starting point?
Frederick: I think beginning with context and discussion would help. Present images carefully, explain what happened, and allow students to talk through their reactions. Ask what disability means today and how we see it in the modern world.
Alex Green: Even asking “What is disability?” can spark hours of meaningful discussion.
If there’s one thing schools could change based on your research, what would it be?
Ethan: Schools shouldn’t avoid difficult topics just because they’re uncomfortable. Discomfort is part of learning about injustice.
Frederick: Empathy is crucial. Any discomfort we feel discussing this is nothing compared to what residents endured. We need to confront these histories so they aren’t repeated.
Alex Green: You’ve done extraordinary work. Empathy absolutely matters in studying history.
Willowbrook Documentary Transcript
American physicians in the 1800s, influenced by European models, began promoting mental institutions. Massachusetts and New York were among the first states to build separate institutions for those labeled “mental defectives.” By the 1850s, New York had constructed large institutions.
The Great Depression intensified institutional growth, as families lacked resources to care for disabled children at home.
In 1939, New York allocated $5 million to create the Willowbrook State School to serve individuals with mental disabilities from New York City.
Though presented as a place of care, Willowbrook functioned more like a prison. Its history would become central to the disability rights revolution. Exposés of atrocities sparked national outrage, leading to reform and new protections for disability rights and research ethics.
The creation of Willowbrook was shaped by financial strain, limited resources, and the eugenics movement. Society often viewed disability as hereditary defect. Parents were encouraged to institutionalize children and discouraged from having more.
Physicians promoted institutionalization. In her memoir The Child Who Never Grew, Pearl Buck described being told by a doctor to institutionalize her daughter so she could “live her own life.”
Willowbrook publicly portrayed itself as humane, releasing staged images to newspapers. In reality, it was overcrowded, unsanitary, and abusive. Designed for 4,000 residents, it housed over 6,000.
Geraldo Rivera’s 1972 documentary revealed children lying naked on floors, unattended and neglected. Former residents like Bernard Caraballo later spoke about the inhumane conditions.
The hepatitis epidemic infected nearly every resident within six months. Researchers exploited this outbreak to conduct deliberate infection studies. Consent was framed as offering benefits, such as better dorms or potential vaccines.
Even years later, research leader Saul Krugman defended the experiments.
As disability rights activism grew, parent advocacy groups pushed for reform. Senator Robert Kennedy described Willowbrook as a “snake pit.” Journalists like Jane Curtin exposed brutal conditions. Rivera’s televised footage made the crisis undeniable.
Public outrage followed. Parents filed a class-action lawsuit in 1972, arguing that conditions violated residents’ constitutional rights. The 1975 Willowbrook Consent Decree required least restrictive living conditions and accelerated deinstitutionalization.
The scandal also spurred national reform in research ethics. The 1974 National Research Act led to the Belmont Report in 1979, establishing principles of informed consent, beneficence, and minimizing harm.
Although reforms began in the 1970s, Willowbrook did not close until 1987.
Willowbrook transformed from a symbol of institutional abuse into a catalyst for national reform, reshaping disability rights and ethical standards in medical research.
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