13 People, a Sheet of Papers, and a Box of Tissues

There's no doubt about it, IEP time is pretty emotional for parents.  Maybe it is for educators, too, but I kinda doubt it.  So much about your child's future well-being is riding on what happens in that meeting, and while you, as parents, are considered a part of the IEP "team," having 13 people in the room, only two of whom are parents and the rest teachers, vice principals and therapists, kind of tips the scales rather unevenly.  That's not to say that the schools don't have the child's best interest in mind, but with budget cuts so widespread across the country, I've heard horror story after horror story of out-and-out fights  for services and appropriate placement. 

You can't help but go in on the defensive.

Especially when the wording sucks. 

A week or so before the IEP meeting, the parents are given a draft document, with some generic recommendations put together by the IEP team (not including the parents, mind you, as the parent meeting has not yet been held).  These drafts are actually very helpful - they give you something to go on, to discuss, and to use for preparation ahead of time.  And that's all it is...a draft.  Definitely not etched in stone.  Think of it as an outline  of topics for discussion. 

But some of the information on this document still hurts.  And still works you up into a lather, mind spinning out of control, heart palpitating, hands sweating, eyes watching the clock until each day/hour/minute ticks down to the moment in which you sit down in that conference room, papers spread out in front of you, facing those 11 others.

When a page titled "IEP Services - Least Restrictive Environment - Placement" has a section called "Placement Decision" with a box checked off that says, "Separate Class," what are you supposed to think?  Well, I can tell you, it sent us into a spiral of hurt, anger, frustration and serious concerns for the ability of the educators to make any decisions for children with intellectual disabilities at all, let alone to even be allowed to teach them.  Seriously, we were practically ready to pull Samantha out of school.  Well, I exaggerate a little, but how could we allow someone to completely disregard the potential of our child by automatically recommending a completely self-contained classroom for her for Kindergarten?  What ever happened to that all-important word, Inclusion? 

So, to make a long story short (yes, I know it's too late already),  after more than half an hour of us voicing our concerns, it was discovered that our fears were for nothing.  The box was checked as an unfortunate result of an issue with the program that generates the draft IEP. 

REALLY????

Needless to say, the pressures and worries of the last week all came out at once, and I was grateful for the box of tissues sitting on the table.  I would say I embarrassed myself by crying like a baby, but I think I made a valuable point to the other members of the team.  They were instantly sympathetic, and apologetic.  One even looked like she was about to cry herself. 

Why does this have to happen?  This process, while difficult enough for so many other reasons, really didn't need to be complicated by a default or a lack of clarity for the parents who don't create/read/study IEPs on a regular basis.  This little point caused so much stress to an already stressful situation, and while I was relieved, I'm also still a little angry.  Surely we can't be the first people to have had a problem with this...are we?

In the end, the meeting ran too long, and we'll have to re-convene soon.  The major point of placement has been agreed upon, however, and the recommendation was full-inclusion with a 1:1 aide for as long as is necessary (necessitated by Samantha's tendency to shut down in group settings and not participate in group class activities - a goal to correct that is on her IEP, too), to be weeded out when she's ready.

There were a few more points that we went into the meeting prepared to argue, but after hearing their sides to each of those points, we understand their reasoning and are good with the compromises we established.  I'll expound on those another time, after the next meeting.

How would I sum up this thrill-ride, laugh-a-minute experience in one word?

Whew!