The Amazing J and his Disappearing IEP
In 2012, J started third grade with a fantastic teacher. One month into school, we had mandatory parent-teacher conferences, and I went into the meeting without too much concern. J had never had trouble with academics, and though occasionally he had some behavior problems, I figured they were pretty normal ones for a young boy. However, the meeting turned out to be one of those situations where you are dropped inside a can and shaken around until emotionally you don't know which direction is up anymore. J's teacher wanted me to get him evaluated by the school psychologist. I cried and feared and doubted, wondering what I had done wrong as a mother and what was wrong with my son.
It turned out to be the start of an amazing journey in school. (Not always an easy one, mind.)
Nine months after that parent-teacher conference, I received the results of the evaluation: J was autistic. High functioning autistic, but solidly autistic. I attended the first yearly IEP meeting, where I met with his special ed team to plan out his "accommodations" and goals for the next year. Since his original diagnosis (it wasn't a medical diagnosis but I don't know how to put it better than that) happened in April, I have had an IEP meeting every April for the last five years. Last week I had my last IEP meeting at J's current school, and I asked for my son to be officially mainstreamed.
When J first started out, he needed a long list of services. He had speech therapy and occupational therapy, writing resource and social skills classes multiple times a week. There was also a long list of accommodations available to him in the classroom. Manipulative objects to use under his desk, extra time for assignments, preferential seating (i.e. putting him in front or by himself as needed), allowing him to use technology to complete assignments, shortened assignments and tests, and he was given the opportunity to take breaks during testing if he got restless (a lifesaver during the mandatory state testing). He was also placed with teachers who could handle his wandering-- he would go through periods where he just couldn't stay at his desk, but had to get up and meander around the room, even if his teacher was trying to teach. (Some teachers could handle that, others couldn't.)
Each year we have been able to reduce the list of services. The occupational therapy was first to go, followed by the speech therapy. By last year, he was down to only needing a quarterly check in for social skills and occasional review with the writing resource teacher to make sure he wasn't having any trouble with details or drawing conclusions. (By this point he was enrolled in honors English Language Arts. His teacher said it was the first time he'd ever had an honors student with an IEP.)
This year's parent teacher conferences have gone shockingly well. His teachers rave about him. (All of them!) He has managed to quit wandering during school (the changing classes of junior high help a ton with that) and has actually made a couple of friends. And he has not needed any accommodation of any kind for assignments or tests. Since J will be attending high school next year, I felt it was time to let go of the IEP altogether. What more could it do to help him? J is a special education success story!!
However, I had not reckoned with the power of bureaucracy. It took nine months to get his SpEd designation, and apparently it is a long process to end the SpEd designation too. Since he was reevaluated in 2016 and still classified as autistic, he has to keep an IEP until his next re-eval in 2019.
It was the strangest IEP meeting ever. His resource teacher, his math teacher, and I sat around and stared at each other, trying to come up with a single measurable goal for his IEP for next year. We couldn't think of anything. Finally, the SpEd rep pointed out that his ELA teacher said occasionally J has trouble with his volume when he gets excited about something and speaks over her. The SpEd rep wrote it up as a goal for next year that he will have a social skills check in for 15 minutes once a quarter to make sure he is still keeping his voice to appropriate levels during class.
Seriously. I'm still not sure how that is measurable. But rules are rules, even if you don't need it. As his resource teacher pointed out, it may not be needed, but since starting a new high school may cause some old issues to flare up, it's better if we have something the high school can draw on if necessary.
So J will go into high school with an IEP and sign up for a slew of honors classes. Because that's how you roll with a special ed success!
It turned out to be the start of an amazing journey in school. (Not always an easy one, mind.)
Nine months after that parent-teacher conference, I received the results of the evaluation: J was autistic. High functioning autistic, but solidly autistic. I attended the first yearly IEP meeting, where I met with his special ed team to plan out his "accommodations" and goals for the next year. Since his original diagnosis (it wasn't a medical diagnosis but I don't know how to put it better than that) happened in April, I have had an IEP meeting every April for the last five years. Last week I had my last IEP meeting at J's current school, and I asked for my son to be officially mainstreamed.
When J first started out, he needed a long list of services. He had speech therapy and occupational therapy, writing resource and social skills classes multiple times a week. There was also a long list of accommodations available to him in the classroom. Manipulative objects to use under his desk, extra time for assignments, preferential seating (i.e. putting him in front or by himself as needed), allowing him to use technology to complete assignments, shortened assignments and tests, and he was given the opportunity to take breaks during testing if he got restless (a lifesaver during the mandatory state testing). He was also placed with teachers who could handle his wandering-- he would go through periods where he just couldn't stay at his desk, but had to get up and meander around the room, even if his teacher was trying to teach. (Some teachers could handle that, others couldn't.)
Each year we have been able to reduce the list of services. The occupational therapy was first to go, followed by the speech therapy. By last year, he was down to only needing a quarterly check in for social skills and occasional review with the writing resource teacher to make sure he wasn't having any trouble with details or drawing conclusions. (By this point he was enrolled in honors English Language Arts. His teacher said it was the first time he'd ever had an honors student with an IEP.)
This year's parent teacher conferences have gone shockingly well. His teachers rave about him. (All of them!) He has managed to quit wandering during school (the changing classes of junior high help a ton with that) and has actually made a couple of friends. And he has not needed any accommodation of any kind for assignments or tests. Since J will be attending high school next year, I felt it was time to let go of the IEP altogether. What more could it do to help him? J is a special education success story!!
However, I had not reckoned with the power of bureaucracy. It took nine months to get his SpEd designation, and apparently it is a long process to end the SpEd designation too. Since he was reevaluated in 2016 and still classified as autistic, he has to keep an IEP until his next re-eval in 2019.
It was the strangest IEP meeting ever. His resource teacher, his math teacher, and I sat around and stared at each other, trying to come up with a single measurable goal for his IEP for next year. We couldn't think of anything. Finally, the SpEd rep pointed out that his ELA teacher said occasionally J has trouble with his volume when he gets excited about something and speaks over her. The SpEd rep wrote it up as a goal for next year that he will have a social skills check in for 15 minutes once a quarter to make sure he is still keeping his voice to appropriate levels during class.
Seriously. I'm still not sure how that is measurable. But rules are rules, even if you don't need it. As his resource teacher pointed out, it may not be needed, but since starting a new high school may cause some old issues to flare up, it's better if we have something the high school can draw on if necessary.
So J will go into high school with an IEP and sign up for a slew of honors classes. Because that's how you roll with a special ed success!
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