Dear teachers, from your special education students’ family.

I am in my fifteenth year of working in special education, including one brief year as a coordinator. (I missed daily direct work with students far too much to stay.) But there is little that changed the trajectory of my career as much as becoming a mom to my two children did. Both of my children receive special education services — and at many different places on the “continuum of services” over the years. Sitting in their IEP meetings, building relationships with their schools, seeing the way my children were included (or not)… We teachers think we know. I thought I knew. But school and home are not the same. Parenting and teaching are not the same. There’s just so much that I want to say.

We are fighting because we have to. If we seem fierce, if we seem frustrated, if we seem like we’re always anxious about something… It’s because there’s always something to be anxious about. Other kids show up on the first day of school. They just show up. And now they have access to reading, writing, math, and friendship. They hear stories, read to their teachers, read with friends, and learn to spell words. They are taught number sense, reasoning, measurement, and so much more than counting and computation. They experiment! They go to lunch, recess, and resources with their peers. They are assumed to be capable of learning these things. My daughter didn’t get this until she was in sixth grade. My son once didn’t have some of his accommodations implemented for 4 months, despite repeated emails and meetings. On another occasion, the school implemented multiple behavior plan systems with him that were known to trigger fight/flight — despite multiple reminders that his very IEP stating “no behavior plans without team consent”. When we have a great teacher, we know. We know and we are so 100% on your side. We just want the best for our kids. I promise.

Open communication isn’t about helicopter parenting. The statistics are not great for our children and adults with disabilities. Seclusion, restraint, bullying, and flat out physical or verbal abuse are rampant. I understand that there is no way for a parent to know everything that happens every day with any child. I understand that many general education students come home and share minimally. It’s different. It’s so, so different. Our kids are hurt in places where they should be safe — often. We see these stories in the news. We may have lived these stories with our kids. And even when they are physically safe, our kids are left behind in other ways. They are taught separate curriculum, given meaningless grades, or meaningless tasks. My daughter spent several months clipping clothespins to the side of a box or sorting highlighters and pens in her fourth grade year. Their voice may go unheard, as a teacher says “you didn’t mean to say that”. (We have a video of our daughter once saying, “NO” when asked if she liked something. The teacher then hand over hand prompted her to say yes instead.) I understand this whole paragraph is very negative. I understand that if you’re a great teacher, you’re thinking — but not me! Not all of us! That’s wonderful. I’m glad. Show us. Show us that it’s not you. Show us every day, every week. Tell us what you’re teaching. Tell us about your daily schedule. Tell us when our child has a great day or a hard day. Show us some of the things our child is learning so that we can see their progress. Show us so that we can practice at home. Show us so that we can advocate for them in the future because we now know — they can.

Believe in our kids. Give me all the strength-based everything. Strength-based IEPs. Strength-based report cards. Strength-based notes home. Guys, we know our kids are behind. The doctors, therapists, education professionals, and even strangers of the world never fail to remind us. I get if you need to share what the math benchmark score is and where it should have been. But can you also tell me about the time my child was really kind to a kindergartener who was lost in the hallway? Can you tell me how they read a book independently for the first time? The time they made a new attempt at a word, stood for 20 seconds longer than usual? Or all the unconventional ways our children are leaders, go-getters, and bring value to their communities? Maybe they have skill with learning the routine, with trying to solve problems independently, with finding creative ways to self-soothe and self-regulate in a busy classroom. Every child has so many strengths. Let this part of your IEP be big and detailed and long. Let my child shine in your eyes. They will feel the way you see them. We will, too.

Be kind & listen. This probably seems like it doesn’t need to be said. But you cannot imagine the things our children have experienced, or the things that teachers and administrators have said to us. We’ve had administrators tell us that the community would be banging down the door to complain if our child was included for 30 minutes of instructional time a day in elementary school. This is a literal quote, recorded in a meeting. We’ve had home-school communication concerns dismissed as “but she didn’t hit herself that hard, so that’s why no one told you”. Listen when we have concerns. Empathize. Speak kindly about our kids and our family when you have concerns. I want to hear your concerns — just think about how you’re saying them. It’s so different to say: “He can’t be in that class! He’ll disrupt everyone!” and “I’m worried that his anxiety will really spike in this specific setting. He is making a lot of progress with XYZ supports. I really want him to feel calm, regulated, and ready to learn.” Or this: “She doesn’t know any of her alphabet,” versus “She loves to explore alphabet letters by picking them up and looking at them. She will occasionally say one of the letters, but it’s hard for her to consistently name them yet.” THEY. ARE. SO. DIFFERENT.

We are doing the best we can. This applies to the clothes our students wear, the lunches our students pack, the homework folder that doesn’t get checked, whatever it might be. I get that we sometimes might do things that are very frustrating. I am open and honest about how I AM TERRIBLE AT CHECKING THE HOMEWORK FOLDER. I suck at sending in lunch money and permission slips. I get this is a lot of work for you to remind me. I wish it wasn’t this way. Remember, we also are always juggling medical appointments, therapy visits, multiple special education teams, home physical therapy programs, etc — an enormous mental checklist — on top of all the regular ways that we just want to be a family. We just want to watch movies together, build Lego designs, and go to the park. We want to hang out with our kids and appreciate our time together. Sometimes that means that we suck at things. Thank you for being so kind and compassionate and understanding when that happens. Thanks for finding ways to work with us. (My daughter’s teacher now emails when she has a form to sign, or sticks a note in her lunchbox when she needs clothes. I SEE YOU AND I THANK YOU.)

We want our kids to have a sense of community & belonging. My kids have been almost everywhere on the continuum. They’ve been in general education with minimal supports. They’ve been in private day or hospital settings. They’ve been everywhere in between. I understand why the continuum exists. But we can still ensure our kids have a sense of belonging and community, wherever they are in the continuum. A sense of belonging comes from all the little things — having a place to hang your coat, a desk with your name, a chance to be the star of the week, even if you’re only in the classroom for short periods. It comes from teachers and administrators wanting our kids in their schools and shining a light on our kids’ talents, so that all children can appreciate the value that our kids bring to the table. It comes when other kids know your name, wave hello to you in the hall, and ask how you are doing. It’s being on the stage with your peers, not on the floor next to the stage. It’s being at the table with your friends for lunch, not separate and far away. It comes from being invited to participate in school-wide events, whether it’s PTA spirit nights, talent shows, grade level school performances, or field day. It’s about being more than an after thought.

We are a resource and can do great things together. As we grow as parents, we gain so much knowledge. We know what worked for our kids in previous classrooms. We know what helps them communicate. We know what this adapted sign, that vocal approximation, or this sign of frustration means. We have learned from all the teachers that we had before. We can help you problem solve. We can brainstorm. We can (*gasp*) help write IEPs as we share our children’s strengths, the needs we’ve seen over the years, the skills they’ve carried over or haven’t. We have so much value to add as an equal part of the team — if you’ll have us.

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