In our country, the sun of lofty care shines every day, and the determination of the wise leadership that has made 'empowering people' an unceasing national pulse is evident. Thus, the rights of people with disabilities have become established gains and illuminated pathways aimed at integrating them, developing their abilities, and ensuring their dignity in its highest forms. It is a unique humanitarian approach that places us all before the responsibility of preserving the spirit of this care from any procedural flaw that might hinder its course.

The dilemma today lies in the clash of admission criteria between the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Human Resources. These criteria are governed by specific 'intelligence quotients' (IQ). Previously, the system distributed roles harmoniously: children with cognitive abilities (IQ of 55 and above) were adopted by the Ministry of Education, while rehabilitation care centers under the Ministry of Human Resources received those below that threshold. However, with the recent amendment that limited admission in care centers to only those with IQ below 50, an exclusionary gap has emerged affecting children whose IQ falls between 50 and 55. In the view of the Ministry of Education, they are unqualified due to lack of independence in life skills such as personal hygiene, and in the view of the Ministry of Human Resources, they have become 'outside the numerical range' for care.

This gap is a bitter reality that has deprived these children of their most basic rights. Their families were surprised by the rejection of their registration despite receiving services for many years. The shocking result is that 10,000 children remain hostages in their homes, with no education that accommodates their needs and no rehabilitation that develops their abilities. This means a painful regression of their skills and an unbearable psychological and physical burden on their families, who today stand helpless before this sudden closure, besieged by the responsibility of caring for a child whom the system used to care for, but who has suddenly become outside the walls of service. These families live in a state of constant anxiety and existential confusion in the face of a merciless unknown.

Here, the difficult question arises: Where do these children go? And why this bureaucratic contradiction that turns the child into a 'number' that cannot find a place for itself? This contradiction stems from a lack of inter-agency coordination, whereby entities shift responsibility while the citizen pays the price for the difference in criteria.

We all know that the success of any ministry lies in the services it provides, not in reducing them. I am also certain that the directives of the wise leadership—which have become among the goals of Vision 2030—emphasize increasing the number of people with disabilities who receive services in a dignified manner according to an integrated work system that includes all relevant ministries, not the opposite.

The solution lies in a supreme coordination committee with the authority to make an exceptional humanitarian decision that places the child's interest above classification restrictions. The state, which has spent dearly to empower its children, does not accept that any of its children be lost in a 'shadow zone' created by numerical differences.