How An IEP Meeting Is Like Buying A Used Car

I hate buying cars. I hate IEP meetings. I hate going into something and having no clue what I am supposed to say or do or what is needed or allowed. It makes me twitch.

I've known since he was three that my boy had issues. I've consulted with his teachers and tried to make sure we had a positive relationship with them. We let our son know that his school and parents were a team. This wasn't easy, because we had no diagnosis to back us up, so we were actually excited when we finally got his diagnosis last year. It was a gift of progress wrapped in a bow of relief.

Naively, I thought that our school problems would now be over, because the school would now also know what they were dealing with and could help him. An IEP seemed like salvation, a vehicle for a positive educational experience. Now, we could help him manage school without the trauma and drama which plagued almost every school day. Unfortunately, I approached it all wrong.

I went into our first IEP meeting and wanted to help the teachers, classmates and school handle his outbursts and meltdowns and peer relationships and so on. I also had no idea what was supposed to be in an IEP and trusted that the school, having created countless IEPs before, knew what they were doing and had the students' best interests at heart. This time, it was my student. Naive. It was not my best parenting moment. I'd bought a lemon.

The second IEP, we had a new special ed teacher and his general ed teacher seemed on the ball and worked to get him a few accommodations that had been denied to him before. Thinking this was what he needed, I bought it. It looked pretty, had some nice features, but I failed to look under the hood.

Several classroom meltdowns, bullying, and a suspension later, I went back to the lot and demanded another car, er, IEP.

Third time's the charm, right? This time, I consulted a mechanic--a special education advocate who graciously spent two hours going over the IEP, page by page. We talked about what was on it, what wasn't, and what needed to be. I was not yet an expert, but I definitely went back to the lot armed for battle. I pushed my sleeves up and let them have it. They looked as though they had never seen an IEP before. Or never had a parent push back before.

We didn't leave with an IEP yet, although the school seems to be paying attention now. The IEP needs some new parts. When the school has completed refurbishing it, we will go back into negotiations. The new one had better be shiny and like new and this time, it had better make it off the lot!