"It can feel like sinking into an abyss," said Cathy Healy, the mother of an adult son with Down Syndrome, who recently completed his studies at an Alexandria, Va. high school.

During their public school years, children with disabilities are entitled to a menu of special services, such as music or occupational therapy, extra reading help and door-to-door transportation. The law also requires they be given an Individualized Education Program, a blueprint tailored to their needs with involvement from educators and parents.

It’s a comforting safety net that often ends abruptly when students leave school. They might get help securing a job, enrolling in a technical school or giving college a try. But it’s just as likely they won’t. Students with disabilities face waiting lists and tight funding for services once they leave high school.

Educators are legally required to prepare special-Ed kids for life after school under the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act. The law says that by the time students with disabilities are 16, schools are supposed to provide planning that may include more school, getting a job or trying to live independently.

The special education law covers about 7 million students with disabilities in public schools. Learning disabilities such as dyslexia are the most common, followed by speech or language impairments. Mental retardation and emotional disturbances rank next in frequency, though they show up in much smaller numbers.

For many schools, transition probably hasn’t been a focus because of the emphasis the 2002 No Child Left Behind education law places on ensuring that students with disabilities are being taught core academic subjects like math and reading, said Alexa Posny, the commissioner of education in Kansas and former director of special education at the U.S. Education Department.

There is a sense that the focus on academics has come at the expense of teaching so-called "life skills," such as navigating public transit or learning to shop for groceries.

Another longer-standing obstacle is that schools and government agencies that serve needy adults don’t work closely together. Often a special-education teacher will also serve as the school’s transition coordinator, and that person typically does not have close contacts with agencies providing job training or other services for adults with disabilities.

"If you’ve got a transition coordinator who is a special-education teacher in the classroom, how does the teacher get out of the classroom to meet those other people?" Healy asked.

The most recent version of the special Ed law, passed in 2004, tried to tackle some of the transition problems.

The law spelled out that educators must develop appropriate goals for students, based on various assessments, and that progress toward those goals must be monitored.

"It’s not just a matter of filling out some compliance boxes on an IEP," said Harvard University education professor Tom Hehir, referring to the individualized education program written for each special-Ed student. "It’s not easy. It requires you to really think about where you’re going with this particular kid in the long term."

The law also says that students’ goals should reflect their interests and strengths. So if a student says he wants to be a veterinarian, but his math and science skills make that unlikely, schools might try to line him up with a job at an animal shelter.

Colleges do appear to be opening their doors a bit wider for students with disabilities.

About 11 percent of students in two- and four-year colleges are identified as having disabilities _ roughly double the level of the mid-1990s.

While they don’t serve a lot of college-bound teens, high schools that exclusively teach students with serious disabilities appear to give the most thought to transition planning.

Jamal Quander, a 19-year-old student with mental retardation, attends such a school in Washington, D.C. He plans to stay another three years, as he’s entitled to do under D.C. law, and much of that time will be spent planning for his future.

During a recent meeting at the school, St. Coletta, a job placement coach asked Jamal a series of questions about how he liked the work the school had secured for him at a day care center.

"It’s cool going out all by yourself," Jamal said, beaming with pride over his success at taking public transportation on his own. But he said taking care of kids is not something he envisions doing long term. "I would like to do retail and office work," he said.

His mother, Michele Quander, said the school’s transition process has given her confidence that Jamal, a self-professed fashion lover with a megawatt smile, can become independent over time.

"I’m happy for him. I’m excited," she said. "I’m glad we’re starting early."