I'll preface this by saying that they were at least tears of joy, but it finally happened. I cried during an IEP meeting. I've cried after a lot IEP meetings over the years for a multitude of reasons none of which were happy reasons. But never have a been so moved to cry during one. I couldn't help myself. Tears of joy? In an IEP meeting?? This was definitely new territory for me. As an Autism Mom for the last 16 1/2 years, I never thought this day would come.
We have spent countless hours in IEP meetings over the past 12 years where we were given the obligatory statements like, "he's a smart kid.." or "he means well.." and my particular favorite "he doesn't do what the other kids are doing.."but it was almost always follow by a laundry list of negative things. Over the years, we've been told a lot about what he SHOULD be doing, HOW he should be doing it and how the school and the teachers EXPECTED him to conform to everyone else. And when he didn't fall nicely into their set of expectations, they assumed he never would. In a way, I started to believe them. Perhaps, because I knew he's always been his own kid. He does things in his own timing and his own way. Yes, we've had a few classroom teachers and ESE teachers over the years who have been supportive of him after elementary school but as a whole; secondary schools generally didn't care about his success. They saw his disabilities and immediately limited his success by what THEY thought his capabilities were. They didn't care about meeting him where he was or teaching him in the way he could learn and they always assumed he couldn't do more. So, he was never challenged, he was never pushed past their own limits to see what else he was able to do. Quite frankly, we have just been biding our time in school until he graduates.
Well, now he's a junior in high school and we just finished up his annual IEP meeting. My husband and I, with our son included sat on one side of the table and the members of the team representing the school sat on the other side; the battle lines drawn. As with every other meeting, I came in ready to fight. I came in with what little knowledge I have about Autism and IEPs and the fierce need to protect and defend my child from people who never believed he could amount to anything, like I do every time...or so I thought.
First one teacher, than another and another, went around the table saying the most positive, uplifting , and reassuring things about my son.
I sat in utter confusion.
They were happy with his progress? They think he's a hard worker and his work ethic is far above their expectations? They said he's a responsible young man, filled with compassion and empathy for others. They wish they had a thousand other kids like him!
It's not often I am speechless, but I just sat there, stunned and silent. I have never heard such things in an IEP meeting before. Typically, I take notes on all the things he's struggling with, things they would like to see us work on with him over the next year. After a few long moments, I pulled myself together to listen to the rest of what they had to say. As only a cynic can, I waited with bated breath for the proverbial shoe to drop. Surely, they'll get to the part where he's struggling. Surely, they will tell me all the things he can't do yet.
It never came.
Before I knew it was happening, they circled back to how well he's doing and were discussing Honors classes on next year's schedule. Honors classes? Him?! I didn't even know that was possible. His other school kicked him out of honors classes when his standardized test scores weren't were they wanted them to be!
I sat back in disbelief. I turned and looked at my baby boy. The kid who works relentlessly outside of school to be a functioning member of society, just winked at me and rejoined the conversation that centered solely on his success, and listened intently. I felt my eyes immediately fill with tears. They believe in him? They want to see him succeed?? I could hardly believe it.
Someone finally saw what I knew he's been capable of his whole life.
He told me later, before left for class "Told ya," in response to the praise he received from all his teachers. This kid. My whole heart. Of course I knew he was capable, I didn't know everyone else could see what I did. I was screaming it from the rooftops for 16 1/2 years. I just never thought anyone else would believe me. Then without even trying, teachers invested in him, worked with him, and learned what he could do, and even more, they want to see him go farther.
To say I was proud of him was the understatement of the century. Not only that, he was gatekeeping how well he's been doing at school, too. Such a humble fellow. As the team wrapped up the meeting and confirmed we wanted to move ahead with honors classes and getting him on a better track for next year, I couldn't help but let the tears flow. As embarrassing as it was (since I'm not a crier), I was overwhelmed by how much they invested in my kid. "I didn't even know this [kind of meeting] was possible," I said through choked sobs. "I didn't know that someone could care as much about his success as I did," I said as the tears I fought so hard to control streamed freely from my eyes.
I feel like I can finally stop screaming and climb down from the rooftop I've been on all these years. I can pack up my signs, shirts with sarcastic sayings, and close the tab on future emails complaining about what they didn't do right for my kid. He's been paying attention to what we have been teaching him. He's learning and growing at his own pace and he's going to be just fine. A compassionate, hard-working, and responsible member of society. Standardized tests, be damned! Honors classes, be damned! He's an amazing human, a great role model for his peers and some adults, already. And he did all of that while the rest of the world doubted him. People call Autism a disability; I call it his extra ability. It makes him special; the best kind of person. He's not less. He's so much more!
Mama is so proud of you for all you have accomplished and all you will accomplish. I will always believe in you; my expectations for you know no bounds. 💙🧩
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