Fight For The Right To Get Special Ed Support

Some days, I don’t feel like I have a lot of fight left in me. I’m tired, overwhelmed, and it’s hard to know how much difference it makes to sign petitions, attend meetings, call state representatives, or marching for the future in Washington, DC.

Last year, I swallowed Tucker’s hugely reduced special ed support hours without much resistance. I hired a tutor, and reminded his teacher over and over via email that more than two hours of homework for fourth grade felt like too much, and often led to tears. That felt like fighting for him, at least a little. The “numbers” were “normal range.” And I doubted myself, even knowing I’ll never stop fighting to help him… but doubt is a strong force, even in a mama heart.

I was in the classroom as often as possible, and saw other kids who could’ve used additional support. I talked with the special ed boss person at the district level, and felt better, but not much came of it. I could have done more, knowing our new school district has so much less support staff available compared to Fairfax County, Virginia.

But Tucker seemed fine. Thriving, even. And he is thriving, especially compared to younger years when simply speaking was a challenge. When he lashed out at friends for invading his personal space. When he needed ABA therapy. Back when I didn’t have to fight much for special ed support, because it was there, even as I resisted it.

Fight For The Right To Get Special Ed Support

Can a mom ever do enough to be sure her kid is as successful as possible in school and life? It feels like I can always do more.

That I’ll never do enough.

Last night, I had a lot of fight in me. I was convinced Tucker’s not getting enough special ed support in school. He’s behind in general, after his broken arm and then surgery, and then healing, plus two days off for the holiday weekend.

When it was time for homework last night, I lost the fight in me. It was such a struggle to do simple math problems. What normally would’ve taken him 20 minutes dragged into hours. I mixed it up – took him outside, and back inside, and had him work on vocabulary instead.

Eventually, I declared it bedtime, and then sent a teary email to his new teacher begging her to not give him recess detention (where they stay in and complete work rather than have recess). I was all fired up to fight for the right to get support, and the timing’s good as his annual IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meeting is next week.

“You’re gonna need to be there,” I said to Robert. “This shit’s gonna get real.” “Okay,” he said. “I know.” Even when there’s a good outcome, IEP meetings suck, after all.

I opened a tab to make a note of what I wanted to say for this week’s Finish the Sentence Friday prompt, and I wrote:

My son is in tears every night with homework and it takes HOURS. There are tears and declarations of “I’m stupid” and I’m so over it. He’s “passing” so they don’t care. But I care, and I don’t want to homeschool.

I think he’s in the group of barely hanging on kids who are ignored because they’re not problematic enough. And that’s a problem. He’s the kid who wants so badly to please.

I was, um, angry, and frustrated, as you may be able to tell. I felt like I was ready to fight for the right to get special ed support. I still am… but have more hope now.

This Morning

But this morning? I got the sweetest ever email reply from his teacher. She said she’d never give recess detention if a student tried. Only when they don’t return anything at all. She offered to meet with me one morning next week, even after the IEP meeting when I’ll already be at school so she can learn more about Tucker and his history.

Just like that, the fight left me. This time, in a good way. It also helped to look at this weekend’s photos of when we stood on top of the world again. This is from the top of Pikes Peak. You can see his smaller cast a little here.

I’m ready to re-channel my mama bear warrior if need be next week during his IEP. I’ll hire a tutor again, too. Just in case, because a mama bear never stops fighting.

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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, using the prompt “I mostly fight for…”