IEPs and Expectations: There’s No Box for the Good Stuff

I think every IEP season a small piece of me dies. I hate all the pedantic statements and the meaningless numbers that try to quantify the unquantifiable and create the illusion of objectivity. But what I hate most about it all, is how it paints us flat, every one of us, beginning with my son. Although the whole 30-page document is about him (supposedly), how is it that I don’t recognize him in it?  Could it be because there’s no mention of his most notable qualities: his playful sense of humor, his persistence, his imagination, his tender heart, and his contagious laugh? When I asked last year if we could add some of these attributes to the one section labeled ‘Student’s Strengths,’ I was told ‘No, that’s for academics only.’

I too am painted flat, pushed into a generic role that’s been carved out for me. There is a box for ‘Mom.’ Consequently, that’s even what the people around the table call me, literally, during the meeting. They issue statements like, ‘Mom wants this’ and ‘Mom told me that...’ as if I’m not sitting right next to them. Many around the table have known me for years; if they had passed me in the hall on the way to this very meeting, they would have called me by name, and yet here in the suffocating space of an IEP meeting, I have no individuality. 

I’ve also learned that anything positive that I say about my child while in this role of ‘Mom' tends to get filtered through an invisible veil of parental denial. It apparently makes my suggestions much easier to discount. It is true that Grief often rears its familiar head during these meetings, but there is more to grief than denial. I would argue that it is because of my grief, not in spite of it, that I know my son well.  The hard work of grieving keeps the most important questions on my table—daily. Questions like 'Is my son building meaningful relationships?' and 'How can we keep my son engaged in the learning process?'  And besides, Grief was not the only uninvited guest at that table. I could have sworn I saw the faces of Insecurity, Resentment, and Apathy staring back at me.

So please stop pretending that we as parents are the only ones with feelings that could cloud our vision.  We are all human, no more and no less. In the midst of what I know is by letter of the law, a restrictive and laborious process, step out of the boxes for just a moment. Hell, jump out of the boxes and dance. That’s where the really good stuff is.