Sure, high school can be a minefield, but real ones know that middle school (or junior high school as they called it back in my day) is where the true horror lies. This is the case for both genders, but it might even be worse for boys, who have the looming threat of physical violence to go along with those surging hormones and fear of social ostracization.

If you look at any bunch of 12 and 13 year old boys, you’ll see all shapes and sizes, some still looking very much like rosy-cheeked children who get tucked into bed at night, and others looking like small men, having sprouted up after puberty, with underarm hair, pimples, deeper voices, and a confusing new preoccupation with sex.

Director Charlie Polinger takes this tumultuous time and turns it into actual body horror in his new film, The Plague. The action takes place at a camp for water polo, which seems less like an actual camp and more like somebody’s nightmare version of one. It’s set at a cold, almost Soviet-like school, with long, empty hallways, military-style sleeping quarters, and a sauna that the boys, oddly, share with the occasional adult. The water polo coach (Joel Edgerton) is kind and a little dumb and in no way ready to handle the physical and emotional destruction his young charges are capable of.

The film’s first shot, a beaut, is underwater—a series of squirming and pumping legs, looking more like sea creatures than boys. Polinger leans into the rowdy, even feral nature of these children—it’s Lord of the Flies Goes to Camp. Our hero is Ben (Everett Blunck), a sensitive child, still baby-faced, but already lanky and tall. His sensitivity makes him a natural target for bullies, but he’s lucky—at first at least. He’s not the lowest kid on the social pecking order. That distinction belongs to the stoic Eli (Kenny Rasmussen), who is accused of having “the plague,” causing the rest of the boys to squirm and scatter when he comes too close.

The inventor of this plague—a precision tool of social ostracization—is a pint-sized sociopath named Jake (Kayo Martin), who is cute and confident and casually cruel. “It’s similar to leprosy,” Jake explains, pointing out that Eli’s rash goes beyond mere teenage acne. “It’s some plague shit. Turns your brain into baby food.”

Jake is cordial enough with Ben, but he immediately clocks him as a potential object of prey.

“Say ‘stop’!” he demands of Ben, in front of the other 7^th graders.

“Sop,” lisps Ben cautiously, as the boys howl.

From that instant forward, Ben is nicknamed “Soppy.” (A 7^th grader’s ability to find the thing you are most insecure about and mock it remains undefeated.)

Ben is all too aware of Jake’s capacity for social ruination and he regards Eli as a cautionary tale.

But, admirably, Eli manages to remain true to himself—dancing and singing along with a cardboard Betty Boop doll he has made and quoting science fiction films in funny voices. He’s precocious, genuinely odd, and exists somewhere between accepting his fate and believing he might actually deserve it.

“Don’t come near me,” he whispers to Ben. “You might catch it.”

As for Ben, he intellectually knows that the plague is made up but also fears he might catch it. He keeps inspecting his body in the mirror. Is that a pimple or…?

For a while, things go on like this until Ben can’t take it anymore—the cruelty toward Eli is simply too much for his tender heart. So he tentatively befriends Eli, even slathering on Eli’s rash cream, and you can guess what happens next.

The Plague is a clever film, utilizing a horror-film score (human voices chanting, gasping, and moaning in eerie fashion) and directed with cold polish by Polinger. The three lead boys are remarkable. As Ben, Blunck is so pained by the cruel world around him, he will positively crush you. Rasmussen is both off-putting and strangely heroic, bent but not broken by his tormentors. (Here is where Polinger’s lack of sentimentality shines through—sometimes the unpopular kids were, in fact, weirdos). And Kayo Martin’s Jake might be the best of them all—a mop-topped imp with a rakish grin, a natural leader whose charm can turn to menace on a dime.

I admired The Plague but I confess that after a while it got repetitive, having run out of things to say. Still, it’s a slick and nasty piece of work—and I mean that in the best possible way.

 

The Plague is opening at AMC Columbia on Friday January 2.

When you have children with intellectual, developmental, physical, or multiple disabilities, how do you get them the help and resources that they need to prosper? Whether you’re looking for day care, choosing a school, or finding other activities available to them, the Baltimore area has a ton of resources for children with disabilities and their families. Here’s a look at some of them.

ometimes when a child is born, a disability presents itself immediately. In fact, some disabilities, like spina bifida, may be discovered during the mother’s sonograms. Others, though, may not become obvious until the baby begins to miss important milestones in their development.

When that happens, where do you go for help?

If you’re not sure if your child has actually missed a milestone or not, the first place you can check is with the Maryland Infants and Toddlers Program, which includes infant milestones on its website. This program operates throughout every county in Maryland and provides free services for children from birth through three years old who have developmental disabilities, delays, or other special health needs.

“From the time kids are born, they can be referred for a variety of different reasons to obtain services . . .”

For example, if parents of a child with disabilities live in Baltimore County, they can contact the Baltimore County Infants and Toddlers Program (BCITP), which will help them develop an Individualized Family Service Plan (IFSP), a precursor to the Individualized Education Plan (IEP).

“From the time kids are born, they can be referred for a variety of different reasons to obtain services,” says Allison Myers, executive director of the Department of Special Education for Baltimore County Public Schools. If the child is premature, they can also be referred for screening and for the parents to access support.

Families can go directly through the school system or have a health care provider refer them. “You know your child best. If there’s a concern, then you want to reach out for a consultation and screening,” says Myers. “We have a variety of providers who work to support children in their home setting to provide services to support the child and the family during that time.”

Before a child is eligible for school, providers such as physical and speech therapists come to the child’s home to give services. When a child is three years old, staff determine whether or not they are able to transition to an IEP, which means that they’re eligible for special education. “Or the family can decide to do an extended IFSP, which is where they could stay on, and then transition at their fourth birthday,” explains Myers.

Early intervention is key, says Myers. “It’s really important for us to be collaborative with our families, making sure that supports are provided and students are able to make progress,” she says.

As the students get older, the family and the IEP group make decisions as to whether the child will be mainstreamed at their local elementary, middle, and high schools, take special education classes, or need to attend nonpublic or private separate day schools.

Children with disabilities are allowed to stay in the public school system until they are 21. Once they turn 17 or 18 (whatever age they would be seniors in school), their experiences vary. Myers says that they may continue in high school for a longer period of time if they need more in order to complete their courses. They also, though, may move into community-based programs that will help them with work or job skills. Or they may have a mix of both—spend part of a day in school and then the other part in a community program or job site.

A CLEARINGHOUSE FOR INFORMATION
For parents who need more information or services for children with intellectual or developmental disabilities, there’s Resource Find, a project of the Maryland Center for Developmental Disabilities, which is located at the Kennedy Krieger Institute.

“It’s really important for us to be collaborative with our families, making sure that supports are provided and students are able to make progress.”

“I get calls all the time when parents say, ‘I think my child may have autism. What should I do? What kind of resources are available?’” says Kristine Nellenbach, program manager for Resource Finder. If they haven’t contacted their local school system, Nellenbach refers them there.

Often, she will ask the callers what issues they are seeing with the child and what else they would like to address. Nellenbach then gives them referrals to whatever providers can best help the child or other organizations that can serve them as well.

When parents call and say that they no longer want their children in public schools, she refers them to the Maryland Association of Nonpublic Special Education Facilities (MANSEF). “They represent over 90 nonpublic, special education schools throughout the state of Maryland, and all of these schools serve students with a wide range of disabilities that are intellectual, developmental, or physical,” says Nellenbach.

“A parent is an equal member of the team. So they can always request and indicate what they feel is best for their child. Ultimately, it is an IEP team decision as far as where the services and supports are provided,” says Myers.

No matter where your child with disabilities is educated, what’s crucial, Myers says, is working together. “I think it’s important for families to know that this is a partnership where we encourage them to reach out for support.”