Happy IEP Day!

The IEP meeting is
I've been struggling all afternoon for an apt metaphor or analogy. I've come to the conclusion that until you've been through an IEP meeting for your child, you can't begin to understand the process and what it does to you as a parent. IEP stands for Individualized Education Plan and every student with a documented disabling condition is entitled to one. At least once a year, a team consisting of your child's teachers, therapists and at least one administrator meet with you, the parent.
At its best, the IEP meeting can be a lovefest, a meeting of minds and hearts who all have one common goal--your child's educational success. The teachers and therapists share cute stories about your child, happily reporting on his or her progress. You bring baked goods to the meeting and profusely thank the team members for their roles in your child's success. You all hug and congratulate each other on what a wonderful job you are doing to support your child.
At its worst, the IEP meeting is an emotional bloodbath. Tears are shed, accusations and insults are hurled across a conference table and legal action is threatened. You sit and listen for four hours to a litany of what is wrong with your child, specific details of all of your child's challenges, shortcomings and general offensiveness. By the end of the meeting, you are convinced that there never existed a more fucked-up kid in all of history and no one (in this room full of experts!) knows what to do about him. You have to drink a bottle of chardonnay that evening just to begin to process what you've endured. It will be days if not weeks before you can stop repeating the horrific scenario in your head--followed by delicious, violent fantasies about certain team members. You will neither be able to sleep nor eat normally for quite some time.
Not that I would know personally.
Of course, what I've just described are the two extremes. Most IEP meetings probably fall somewhere in between, but the majority of ours have been one of those two extremes.
I'm really happy to report that our meeting yesterday was the first type--the bunnies and puppies kind of IEP. Of course, we have high expectations for Liam and in order for him to meet those, he needs a lot of support. Some of the additional support we're requesting is currently unresolved. I can't be specific, but he is still not working at grade level in most academic areas.
On the positive side, Liam's team really gets him--they value his sense of humor, intelligence and personality. They shared wonderful stories of his life at school that we know very little about, because he rarely shares it with us.
I have two favorite stories from Liam's teacher. One is that he had come back from his mainstream classroom with a little rubber worm from a craft they were doing. Liam's teacher said, "Liam, I am doing a lesson right now, so you need to put the worm away and pay attention." Liam answered, "I really need a fidget right now." The beginnings of self-advocacy! He has learned that sometimes he needs a fidget to keep his hands from misbehaving and he used his words to explain it.
The second story was that he was carrying around a picture frame he had made me for Mother's Day and was so excited, saying, "My mom is gonna LOVE this frame." That one blows me away, because he never lets on that he cares about pleasing me.
It has taken a lot of hard work and pain to get our son in this good place, but we can never rest. No matter how well he does, I have to keep raising the bar for him. I just thank God that, for the moment, he is surrounded by people who believe in him just as much as I do.