The IEP Is Not About Me
by Tracey Solomon 

I hoped the noise of recess would camouflage my stomach’s rumbling. My hands were so sweaty, I figured I’d look like a giant raisin by the time this parent/teaching team meeting was over. The only thing keeping me from hyperventilation was the shortness of the chair legs. My head was already between my knees. Breathe, Tracey. It’s fine. I tried to convince myself.

I might have smiled when the teaching team came in. I also might have shot defensive daggers from my eyes. This was it — the meeting where it would be decided that I’d failed as a mom. I wondered if they’d already called Social Services. Do they drive unmarked cars? I glanced out the window at the parking lot.

My son’s teaching team asked questions and made suggestions. They said normal words like fine motor skills and language. But then they said learning disability and testing. Thus began my out-of-mommy experience. I pretended to listen but in my mind I hovered above the tiny table, arguing.

I have brilliant children. You must be mistaken. I wished I’d brought our ACT scores as evidence. Look, I have ADD and he doesn’t. So there is no learning disability. You’re wrong. I thought about confessing failure as a former homeschooler. There’s nothing wrong with my kid! I just failed as a homeschooler.

Instead I sat there, trying to quietly swallow my guilt and failure. I tried to listen to their opinions while I silently told myself the truth.

The truth is, the IEP meeting* is not about me. It’s not about blaming me for passing along my learning disability. It’s not about my failings as a homeschooler or parent.

It’s about getting my son the help he needs.

This wasn’t even my first IEP. I’d been there in the past as support for my pastoral counseling clients. I should have been prepared. It was my first IEP as the parent of the child, though. It’s a whole different ball game when the child you’re discussing is your own.

Familiar words rolled through my mind like wispy clouds of truth. Each child is different. There is a strength for every weakness. It’s not about intelligence; it’s about how he learns and how we can help. It’s not about blaming; it’s about finding answers. I struggled to believe in those wisps.

Then came the paperwork — more than when we closed on our house. Permission for testing; signatures stating we understood our rights to an effective education. I may have signed over a kidney. I stopped reading after the third page. Before we left, we scheduled a meeting to discuss the results.

In the meantime, this is what I know: the results don’t change who my kid is. He is brilliant, funny, loving and a joy. He may also have a learning disability. The results don’t change who I am. I am a good mother, who loves her son and does the best she can, and gets the help her family needs.

*IEP stands for Individual Education Plan