The IEP Meeting: What We Learned, What Surprised Us, and What Helped

 We had done the evaluations. We had filled out the forms. We had shared our concerns and prepared ourselves the best we could. Now, it was time to sit at the table—not as educators, but as parents.

The day of the IEP meeting felt heavy. We walked into a room filled with professionals—each one holding a piece of our son’s story. And while they were kind, thoughtful, and clearly prepared, nothing quite prepares you for hearing your child described through charts, percentages, and testing language.

They began by reviewing the results.

The evaluations confirmed what we had suspected and feared: our son needed support across multiple areas. He qualified for services in speech, occupational therapy, and physical therapy. The testing also revealed comprehension difficulties, which explained the challenges we had been seeing with processing and retaining new information.

As an educator, I knew where this was going. I could see the path forming as they spoke.

Our son would be placed in the district’s preschool program for four-year-olds, supported by a special education teacher. This was the right placement—we knew that. But it didn’t make it easier to hear.

Then, right there in front of us, the team began writing goals.

And even though I’d helped write hundreds of IEP goals in my career, watching someone write them for your child is something else entirely.

We listened as they outlined objectives like:

  • Learning to write his name
  • Identifying colors and numbers
  • Beginning to recognize sight words to help him start reading

We nodded—these were all things we had been working on. Things he struggled with. Things we desperately wanted to see him succeed at.

They also explained that a medical plan would need to be added to the IEP because of his FPIES diagnosis, a serious food allergy condition. His reactions weren’t mild—they were severe and potentially life-threatening. That needed to be part of his school safety plan.

And finally, one of the more sensitive topics came up: toilet training. He wasn’t there yet, and it needed to be addressed as part of his school readiness. Another goal. Another task.

It was a lot.

Seeing your child’s needs laid out like a checklist is emotional—even when you already know them. But despite how overwhelming it was, something important happened during that meeting:

We were seen. Our concerns were validated. And for the first time in a long time, we weren’t carrying the weight alone.

What Surprised Us

  • How quickly the team moved through the paperwork—this wasn’t new for them, but it was new for us.
  • How emotional it was to hear our son’s delays described in formal, clinical terms.
  • How hard it was to stay focused when your heart is in the room, not your head.

What Helped

  • Having our notes and prep sheet gave us confidence.
  • The team allowing us time to ask questions, even the small ones.
  • Hearing clear goals—we left knowing what our son would be working toward.

This meeting wasn’t the end—it was the beginning. A team was forming around our son. A plan was in place. And while the path ahead wouldn’t be easy, we weren’t walking it alone anymore.

If you’ve been through your child’s first IEP meeting—or are preparing for it—I’d love to hear from you. What helped you feel more confident? What do you wish you had known going in?

Share your thoughts in the comments. Your story could help another parent feel less alone.

<script async src="https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-9892326212657392"

     crossorigin="anonymous"></script>


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When the IEP Isn’t Working: What Parents Can Do

  No matter how thorough your evaluations were… No matter how well-written the goals seemed… No matter how good the plan looked on paper… Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like things are moving forward. And when you’re the parent, watching your child stall despite everything being in place—it can feel frustrating, confusing, and even a little defeating. We’ve been there. After our son started his preschool program, he made great progress—learning his letters, identifying shapes, starting to write his name. We were encouraged. We felt like we were finally on the right track. But then… things slowed down. He wasn’t meeting certain goals as quickly. Some skills just weren’t sticking. As much as we wanted to believe it was just a phase, we started asking ourselves: As both an educator and a parent, I knew this wasn’t unusual. Growth isn’t linear. But when it’s your child, and you’re watching them struggle, it can still feel heavy. Here’s What We Did—and What You Can Do ...
Read more

About Me

  Hi, and welcome to Both Sides of the Table. My name is Ken and I’ve spent over 20 years as an educator, working with students across a wide range of needs—from learning disabilities to autism, ADD, and ADHD. I’ve sat in countless IEP meetings, talking with parents who are doing everything they can to help their child thrive. I’ve always tried to offer comfort, support, and honesty—while also helping families get the services and solutions their child truly needs. But I don’t just know this world as a teacher—I know it as a parent, too. My wife and I are raising a son with special needs. Alongside his learning difficulties, he also has life-threatening food allergies that have made parenting even more complex. We’ve had to make some incredibly tough decisions, advocate fiercely, and learn more than we ever thought we would about how to support him emotionally, academically, and medically. That dual perspective—both sides of the table—is what inspired this blog. This is a...
Read more

The Evaluation: Facing the Unknown

After we made the decision to move forward, it didn’t begin with testing—it began with a meeting. We sat down with the Child Study Team to talk about what we were seeing with Michael. He was with us that day, sitting on the floor quietly playing while we spoke to the professionals gathered around the table. I had sat in countless meetings like this before—as a teacher. But this time, I was here as a parent. We were honest. We shared our concerns. Michael was four years old and still not identifying colors, numbers, or letters. We talked about how his walking had been delayed, how his feet turned in a little, how his progress just didn’t look like what we’d seen in other children his age. The team listened carefully. But there was concern—they weren’t sure they’d have enough time to complete the testing and evaluations before the school year ended. I knew the rules. I knew the Child Study Team had up to 90 days to complete the evaluations and hold an eligibility meeting. But it...
Read more