Up to 90 shekels an hour under the table: The "black market" of special education
A shortage of thousands of aides, low wages, and a blind placement system have created a parallel market: affluent parents "supplement wages" out of their own pockets to ensure proper accompaniment for their children, while others are left behind. Aides speak out, experts warn: "The inclusion system in Israel is on the verge of collapse."

A shortage of manpower, low wages, and a placement system that does not always allow for prior matching between the child and the person supposed to accompany them: behind the inclusion system for children with special needs in the education system, a parallel market has developed in recent years.
Parents who seek to ensure their children have a suitable aide or educational support staff find them themselves, and in some cases "supplement wages" out of their own pockets, in addition to the salary paid by the local authority. The supplement can reach 50 shekels per hour, and in some cases even 70-90 shekels. Thus, those who can pay may gain a significant advantage for their child, while other families depend on the authority's placement — if manpower is available at all, against the backdrop of a shortage of about 5,000 aides, which creates a gap that is very difficult to bridge.
Aides who wish to remain anonymous describe how the mechanism works. According to Rita (a pseudonym), the salary she receives through the local authority is about 40-45 shekels per hour, while in cases where she came through a family, the total amount can reach 75-80 shekels per hour and even more.
Some parents are willing to cover this gap to find a suitable aide and keep them for a long time. "I think many aides live like this, everyone knows and everyone turns a blind eye," she says. "Officially, the authorities will never recommend a parent to do such a thing, but under the radar, I believe they are aware of it."
Thus, apparently, a gray market is created around a service that is supposed to be provided within the public education system: the authority employs the aide and pays their salary, and at the same time, there are families who find them themselves and pay them a private supplement.
According to the aides, the gap is not just about money. When an aide comes through the family, they can meet the child in advance and check if there is a match between them, while in a regular placement by the authority, the ability to choose is significantly reduced.
"They decide where I go," says Ariel (a pseudonym). "I have no influence on where I will end up, and the connection with the parents is minimal. Everything happens indirectly through the kindergarten teacher, and this creates a kind of 'broken telephone'." This is despite the fact that the Ministry of Education issued a directive encouraging a direct connection between the aide and the parents — while in the field, educators often try to prevent it, and often succeed.
The result is a clear socio-economic gap between families: a parent with means can find a professional in advance, offer a wage supplement, and test for a match, while a family that cannot afford to pay hundreds or even thousands of extra shekels a month is completely dependent on the public mechanism. "No one wants to do this job for 45 shekels an hour," says one of the aides. "But not everything is money, there is a mission and personal satisfaction here. However, there is no doubt that the economic aspect has a great influence, and wages must be raised so that better people come to the system."
Dr. Anat Moshe, head of the special education track at Beit Berl College, points to an even deeper paradox: it is precisely the workers with the least training who are required to accompany some of the most complex children in the system. "There will be those who say there is no salary and no conditions, and that is all true, but there is a built-in structural paradox in this role," she explains.
According to her, the goal of the aide is not to remain attached to the child for years, but to bring them to maximum independence. However, as inclusion succeeds and the child becomes more independent, the need for an aide decreases, and accordingly, their employment stability is also affected. "An educational support staff member may not know not only who the child they will work with is, but also in what framework they will be placed and how many working hours they will have," notes Dr. Moshe.
The problem worsens when an aide moves from year to year between children with completely different needs, without their training being adapted to this in advance. "True, today aides receive support and training, but it is not anchored as a structural obligation as part of their role," concludes Dr. Moshe. "Ultimately, this is the workforce with the least knowledge and training, which is required to work with the most complex children in the system."
Dr. Moshe believes that the problem is much broader than just the aide system. As the number of included students grows (about 230,000 out of about 418,000 special education students), the "regular" education system is required to provide an answer to a wider range of needs, while the teachers themselves are not necessarily qualified in special education. "Once the law allows and encourages inclusion, greater manpower and resources are required in regular education," she explains. "This is not there, and then this whole chain of difficulty and complexity begins, at the end of which those who suffer are the children, parents, and staff."
According to her, "children will be integrated more. This is not a mechanism that can be turned back, and anyone who thinks so simply does not understand reality. One needs to think in advance and reopen the whole issue of the law, its expressions, committees, and the efficiency of what is happening in the field."
Dr. Carmela Igal, head of the special education specialization in master's studies at the Faculty of Education and Society at Ono Academic College and a former national inspector at the Ministry of Education, argues that the crisis of teaching support staff is only a symptom of a much broader problem in how the system manages inclusion as a whole.
According to her, the very term "aides" (meshalvot) places a heavy responsibility on them, without the system providing them with the necessary tools. "Look what a truly supreme role they were given — 'aides'. One needs to know how to do it," she says. "I do not accept that people who work in education, no matter what their occupation, will not have the appropriate training for the position offered to them."
Dr. Igal emphasizes that recruiting additional workers alone will not solve the crisis: "Even if they get another 10,000 workers in substandard conditions — it will not add to inclusion. All roles in the system must change, and teaching support staff must be qualified. One needs to instill meaning into their work and know how to work with them as part of a whole team."
According to her, the need for training has been known to the system for decades. "Already in 2002, we understood that when inclusion is expanded, one needs to train the escorts, the aides as they were called then." However, she warns against placing the responsibility for inclusion solely on the aide: "These aides are not the ones leading the inclusion. If the educators and kindergarten teachers do not know how to work together, and everyone pulls in a different direction, the cart simply will not move."
Igal also opposes reducing the parents' ability to choose the type of framework for their children, as stated by the Secretary-General of the Teachers' Union, Yaffa Ben David, who called for reducing the number of included children in a class from 7 to 2 only. "The state should help parents fulfill their responsibility, not take it from them. The parent is the one who decides for their child. I expect that whoever touches the child and accompanies them will be a good advisor to the parent, and that trust will be built between them."
According to her, even the dichotomous separation between "regular" and "special" education no longer corresponds to the reality on the ground: "Special education is not necessarily a physical place, but a service and entitlement. There is a sequence of supports that are suitable for different levels of functioning, and this service must always go with the child."
Mezi Levi, coordinator of the special education forum in the Tel Aviv municipal committee and mother of three children on the autism spectrum, knows this struggle up close. Her eldest 15-year-old daughter is integrated into a regular class, and in the future, her second son is also expected to be integrated. "Today, when I see my daughter's success, it is clear to me that this is the most suitable place for her," she says.
"Any attempt to send her to another framework, outside her natural environment, will not benefit her," adds Levi. "We fought for them to believe in our children and in their ability to integrate and succeed."
Tsufit Golan, Deputy Chair of the National Parents' Leadership and head of the special education team, argues that the shortage of aides "is long no longer just a question of how much manpower is missing, but a deep problem in how the system is built and relates to the role."
According to her, the conditions, lack of training, and mismatch between the aide and the child's needs make the role exhausting and make it difficult to recruit and retain workers. "The main victims are, of course, the children. True inclusion cannot exist just because a child was placed in a regular class," she clarifies. "When there is no suitable, skilled, and trained manpower beside them, and the staff does not have the ability to provide an answer due to the load in the class and the variety of needs — even the included child does not receive the answer they need, and ultimately the whole class pays the price."
In recent days, teachers' organizations, local authorities, and even the Ministry of Education are using the card of "amending the special education law" after the elections. However, according to Golan, the current law is not relevant to reality.
"The direction for a solution is found in the recommendations of the Shapira Committee: smaller classes, manpower that undergoes appropriate training, correct pooling of resources, decent wages for therapists, and professional accompaniment for managers," concludes Golan. "Without such a systemic change, any point solution simply will not solve the problem. If one wants to talk about the right to special education and true inclusion, one needs to build the system around the needs of the child, and not try to adapt the child to what the system manages to provide at the moment."





