It Was My Life.
On the way to Dylan’s IEP meeting, I had one clear, repetitive thought:
This is my favorite thing to do.
And this year – Dylan’s junior year of high school – was my last year to do it. Next year, we’ll meet to discuss Dylan’s transition to college, hopefully. But we won’t need to meet and rebuild the 39-page document that we started building when Dylan was in second grade.
A meeting like this should not be my favorite thing – for so many, many reasons. I mean, who wants to have a kid who has such specialized needs that his teachers and administration have to meet with his parents every six months for years?
Yet, I do. I like my kid having these particular special needs. I am sorry it has been hard for him, and I am sorry it has been hard for us, and I am sorry for all the things in the future that will be difficult in his life because he has such serious ADHD.
But I wouldn’t change him for the world. And while researching ADHD at home has kept me busy – quite literally – for years, having this IEP has given me a glimpse into the school environment – the one place that I wouldn’t have been able to really know without it.
Over the years, I’ve gotten to know all of Dylan’s teachers. They’ve all been such unique personalities, and so many have taught me things about how to deal with (and not deal with) Dylan. I’ve learned a lot about what really goes on in the classroom, how Dylan handles it, what he does to cope, what he does to distract himself.
In a way, I guess, the IEP has kept me in touch with my son’s world. And going to the IEP meetings every year has given me a chance to voice my observations, my concerns, and my opinions, even if most people didn’t want to hear them.
Over the years, I’ve offered input on so many, many, many ADHD-related topics. I mean, it was my life – my life, even more than Dylan’s. Since that first month of first grade, when he wrote “I hate school” in his reading journal, finding ways to help Dylan has been my entire life.
But this year’s IEP meeting was brief. Whereas our first IEP meeting included a principal, vice principal, special education coordinator, speech therapist, case manager, counselor and a teacher, this year only Dylan’s case manager showed up. Two teachers stopped in for five minutes. Dylan’s counselor came by for less than a minute. And a vice principal showed up just as we were wrapping up.
But mostly it was just the case manager, Bill, Dylan and me, chatting about how Dylan should prepare for college, what classes he should take next year, and how he should continue his exemplary behavior for the rest of this semester.
And then we all went our separate ways – as usual – Dylan back to class, the case manager on to another student. We smiled and shook hands and said, “Take care.”
And no one else seemed to notice that it was the last time we’d be doing this. No one else seemed to care.
But I started to cry.