When I get a phone call from the school, my stomach sinks. I pause, wondering about how my day will change. When I hesitantly answer, the fake cheery voice doesn’t soothe me. It scares me. I silently breathe a prayer as I hear about the latest problem.
When I hang up, I cry.
Then I steel myself to whatever action is necessary on my part. I leave my job early, or turn around on my way. I call my husband and we formulate a new plan. I spend my life on the stupid phone.
When we walk into an IEP meeting, we feel like sitting ducks.
Sure, the staff try to begin by talking about positive things regarding our child. And then we dive into all the tantrums, the bad grades, the melt downs, the language, the inability to cope, the self injurious behavior. It’s taken me 5 years of these meetings to start to realize they’re probably not blaming us.
But we feel responsible. We feel defensive. We hate having to go over all of the data and incidents. It’s just another meeting to them–but to us, it feels like one more nail in his coffin of Hope and Possibilities.
And sometimes, I think they do blame us.
We try so hard. It never feels like enough. We want our lives to be normal, uneventful, boring. Instead they’re so filled with stress and adrenaline and cortisol that we can barely breathe. We’ve been to trainings. We’ve implemented everything we possibly can. We are as present as possible. We give everything we have to our children. Someone always feels left out.
And when we hear from the school that our kid is failing, is tantrum-ing, is out of control–it’s more than we can bear. I’m sorry, but what more can we do? We drive 65 miles to the nearest psychiatrist on our insurance plan. We take all of our children to therapy several times a month.
We create a stable, predictable home environment for the very child who creates chaos and disruption.
We spend hours on homework, we follow up with teachers (for the love of donuts–PLEASE keep your electronic grade records up to date! I cannot follow through if I don’t know an assignment exists!).
And we bring an advocate or attorney to meetings now because we have been let down so many times. We have tried on our own–just to have services removed or not be offered that actually benefit our child.
You act like we are combatants, when we are actually tax paying parents who desperately want our child to have an appropriate education.
I wouldn’t call it free when we’ve shelled out thousands of dollars for therapies you wouldn’t provide. Like how his speech wasn’t bad enough to qualify when he was 4-6 years old little so we paid for that privately out of pocket until our insurance plan changed. Now he’s 13 and difficult to understand.
Or like how he didn’t receive services he desperately needed the first day of middle school and was so stressed that the SRO institutionalized him.
So please don’t blame us for bringing whatever experts we can finagle to these meetings.
His volatile emotions are understandably challenging to navigate. Imagine living with him. I know my son better than anyone.Yet I often feel like I have zero authority or “expert status” when discussing his education and behavior.
I know most staff members try their very best. I’ve witnessed kind, warm, loving words. I know my son is regarded affectionately by many. And I am grateful they catch a glimpse of his humor and kind soul. Thank you for that.
Please understand that as his parents, we are responsible for him above all else. When we entrust him into your care, we are praying that you will treat him tenderly and help guide him to be his very best.
We pray for you every day. We hope that you are praying for us, too.