I reflected for weeks on what had happened that caused the parents to get so angry and hostile in the IEP meeting.  

Legally, I had done nothing wrong.  I had met my timelines. My assessment was thorough and accurate.  I had completed behavioral scales with the parents and teacher.  I had done observations.  I used a variety of assessment tools.  At the meeting, I was clear in my explanation of the results.  I tried to be empathic.  I was positive when I could be positive.

Why did I feel like I had messed up?

Why wouldn’t the mother look me in the eye?

It would have been so easy to blame the parents or the test results for the reaction, but that didn’t feel right.  I knew that I could have done something differently.

So, I tried to imagine what it was like for the parents walking into that meeting.  I wondered about their conversation in the car as they drove to the school.  Then I went back further.  I thought about how they felt when they found out they were pregnant, the excitement at the baby shower and what it was like to hold their baby for the first time.  I could hear the doctor pronouncing the baby as healthy with an excellent Apgar score. 

I wondered about what led them to make the referral for assessment.  When did they notice that their child wasn’t progressing like the other kids in the Moms group?  What did their family say to them about their concerns? Had they even shared their concerns? How many conversations did they have with their pediatrician? 

Then I finally pictured walking into the IEP meeting.  I saw the large conference table surrounded by professionals – administrator, school nurse, speech therapist, occupational therapist, behaviorist, general education teacher, special education teacher, and school psychologist.  And I thought about listening to all the reports with their technical terms, and I saw how the child was reduced to percentiles and deficits … and finally an ugly heartbreaking label.

But, what could I do? 

I couldn’t change the assessment reports. 

I couldn’t change the eligibility labels. (One has changed since this time thankfully!)

Then it hit me.  

I saw the full conference table. 

I saw the parents at one end.

And, I knew what I could change.

No one should have to process that much disappointment in front of an audience. 

No one should have to process that much disappointment in front of an audience. 

No one should have to process that much disappointment in front of an audience. 

The next time I was staring at initial test results that were suggesting an eligibility of autism or intellectual disability or other significant disability, I cleared my schedule and invited the parents to meet prior to the IEP.  Just the three of us.  In my office or at their home.  No time constraints.  No spectators. No forms to sign. 

I didn’t change the assessment reports. 

I didn’t change the eligibility labels.

I only changed how the results were presented … and that has made all the difference.