In a perfect world, we'd all be lawyers.

Image by dbking via FlickrParents of disabled children already wear many hats. Since IDEA, we've had to don yet another and hang out our shingles whether we wanted to or not. At least, those of us who were able. It's the rest of that population that is our subject today.

As I've said before, Indiana's Article Seven and IDEA guarantee certain rights for the disabled student. Is that enough?

Most emphatically, NO.

In order to navigate the system, I had advantages. One, I had only some college, so my husband and I recognized my time was most valuable at home. Little did we know, it would be imperative. Two, I found training in the law fairly early on in our journey, and made a study of it ever after. Three, when I did get part time work, it was as a substitute instructional assistant in my son's school. The rest was history.

Our son has needed a lawyer almost from day one, and we couldn't afford one. We had to make do with my makeshift law degree. This gave us access to the complaint system, but it still denies us access to due process. Without access to the courts, our battle has had to be a political one. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.

The primary problem with that is that I didn't stop squeaking. I discovered a whole school of students without speech therapy and went to war alongside their parents to make the school do the right thing. One thing led to another, as our parent's group discovered violation after violation of the law and went to work on them. Now, I attend conferences and consult with parents on their IEPs in my spare time, and we still miss things.

Article Seven is a law with all the whys and wherefores that entails. It isn't easy for a housewife with some college to navigate, and, for some, it isn't possible. Many of my friends work a job, or a job and a half, on top of parenting a disabled child. They can't put in the hours that I have. Single mothers, forget about it. Many parents don't understand the law because it's a law, and that's why we have lawyers. A majority of us are broke what with all the medical bills.

A law without access is like a dance without music. It's missing something. When lines are drawn on a socio-economic basis, it's called disenfranchisement. Being unable to enforce your child's education because it's too expensive isn't much off the days before the wheelchair ramp.

So, families need a ramp. Teachers are a natural advocate for a student. They know the information and usually have the willingness (or did they pick the wrong job!). However, teachers answer to administrators who answer to superintendents who answer to politicians. You can see the problem. Our schools need to get back to the days when teachers were the advocates for families and let them make the recommendations that make sense for the child.

In the event this relationship breaks down, the simplest, second-best thing is to get the school, who failed to nurture the parent/teacher relationship, to pay for the family's advocate. The advocate doesn't have to be a lawyer.  Most often, it's a mom who did this on her own. Every advocate I know was the mother of a special needs child.

This would give all parents access, and advocates are more like coaches. Therefore, the training the parent would receive as a result could allow them to advocate for themselves in future. At the very least, it would put the parent back in the Case Conference Committee as an equal player and not a subservient.

Does Indiana have FAEPE? Meh.

Image by Jim Nix / Nomadic Pursuits via FlickrOur recent experiences as a family in the special education system of Indiana have illustrated a new social problem for Hoosiers, but perhaps for others across the nation. The idea behind IDEA and all its sister laws was to guarantee equivalent education for the disabled, and maybe, at the time, we didn't know what that really meant. There's great cost involved.

To be realistic, there are good teachers, bad teachers, great administrators and bad directors everywhere. People are people, and just being an educator doesn't guarantee good intentions. It's true of any job, but in few places does it have more effect than in education. Education becomes slave to local politics. That is directly juxtaposed to the intention of Article Seven and IDEA, the laws governing our treatment of disabled students.

Parents, already financially strapped due to massive medical bills, have a law that allows them the right to advocate for their child. Great! How's that working in Indiana?

It's not. Not really.

Children take what they are given, and services do not always follow the individual needs of the child as they are meant to do. Why? Because politics demands cost cutting somewhere, and these kids are most vulnerable to that reduction of funds. Sadly, discrimination still exists, and it's most apparent at school board meetings where equal is defined in a school district. So why don't parents sue? There's a law, right?

While the law guarantees the right, it doesn't guarantee access.
Money does that. Money that disabled children and their families don't have because they are disabled. The weakness in the law falls in the category of socio-economic disenfranchisement. In the next few posts, I intend to explore the subject further; looking at the details and discussing options that lawmakers and administrators have at their disposal.

This is not a war.

Image via WikipediaAs you start work on your CCC, no one wants a war, but it would be a mistake to think of it as anything less than a legal proceeding. The Committee will write a legal document about the services your child receives, the school he attends and the methods used to teach him. It is a comprehensive legal document. It satisfies the requirements of a law.

What documentation should you keep?
Any communications in writing between you and the school staff are priority. This includes; progress reports, notes home, documentation of behaviors, and even emails or letters from school staff to parents. A good idea is to prepare a document just for your use to take notes during a conference. It can document which issues you wanted to discuss and which ones you actually got to discuss and the outcomes. It's always advisable to err on the side of caution. When in doubt, keep it.


And when it is a war?
This is where all that routine documentation works to your advantage.  Occasionally, parents and schools clash, and sometimes it can become a war of wills. Personalities get involved. Don't let that happen, if you can avoid it.

This is business! First rule of advocating for your child; it's strictly business. You have a professional position at the table as the primary expert, and you have a right to be there. If someone at that table patronizes or treats you rudely, that isn't professional. Likewise, you have to act professional as well.

Advocates make sure procedure is understood and followed. They are in that room for one person; the child. We aren't there to call names or be called names. We aren't there to stick it to the other guy. If you sense this in your motives, pull back and get an advocate. If you suspect someone else feels this way toward your family, do the same thing if you can. Some easy rules to follow when it hits the fan this way:  

• Keep phone calls to a minimum
• Ask to record conferences and meetings
• Conduct most discussion via email
• Organize all communications for later use as evidence

 

Special education mediation; how does that happen?

Image by Getty Images via @daylifeIt's pretty rare, but it can happen. The parents disagree with the school or the school disagrees with the parents. It's seldom that the school sticks so completely to its guns on a point of contention. It's oftentimes cost effective to give a family a compromise, so here's a word of caution. If the school is adamant and chooses mediation, take a long, hard look at your case. Step back and really look.

There's a reason they chose that way instead of being cost effective. They think the process will go in their favor. That means they may be right on target with Article Seven guidelines. In this case, parents should ask someone trained in the law. Mediation may be a waste of your time.

The school is run by people, and those people may actually think you have the wrong idea about your child's education. Here's where things get sticky. You know your child. More than anyone else, you've seen what he can do. You know how good the good moments are and how bad the bad. Parents are experts, best in the field, on one kiddo.  How far do you go?

If you've tried to work out the kinks and you're losing time on your child's education, go to mediation. If the situation is turning hostile, it's more than past time to bring in a third party who is objective and uninvolved. If you believe it's a safety issue, then do it without hesitation.

Mediation is never fun. Parents have the option because there has always been the chance they would need it. I can guarantee it's easier than due process, but that's about the only guarantee a family will get.

Related articles

• Procedural Safeguards The Series - Part VIII (specialeducationlawblog.blogspot.com)
• What Is the Difference Between Mediation and Arbitration (brighthub.com)

Image by kvitlauk via Flickr

Indiana is special when it comes to special education. It has a dream. That dream comes in the form of a law, but it's far from being a reality. Article Seven dictates to schools how disability should be handled in the state. Placement should be appropriate and definitions of what is or is not appropriate run us aground each and every day.

My experience of case conference committees has been both sad and typical. It's a battlefield whether it should be or not, whether that's right or not. It's parent against school, and the things you don't know are the hardest to overcome. Funding, politics and even individual egos, theirs and yours, must be navigated like a mine field.

So I treat Article 7 like a beautiful dream that must be realized and, even tweaked, now and again. The bottom line is that these aren't rights until you no longer have to ask for them. Maybe I'd be more patient if I was asking for my own, but it's Darrel I worry about, the time he's losing, the things that need to happen before too long. Not a cure, but a life lived with minimal assistance would be nice. Speech might be good, but I'll settle for coping skills, his and mine. This leads to all the conflict with schools I can handle because some things are just right.

Where do schools fit in all this? If we're the dreamers, are they the dream? Article 7 is all about education, and therefore depends on teachers, administrators and even local government to become reality. That's the rub. Parents and students depend on them, so they need them to be dependable.

My frustration probably comes from that, but also from the dealings I have every day with people I perceive as my son's best hope for functionality, and I forget that they may not see it that way. They may see it as a job, maybe one they love. But they go home to an autism free zone perhaps, and turn on the TV or help their kids with their math homework. Meanwhile, I'm at home trying to interpret a screaming fit or medicating someone. Sometimes I'm dodging teeth or fists because that's where we are that moment. Those professionals don't often live where we live. Living with severe disability isn't something you can turn off, so we're always in crisis mode.

Learn patience is the lesson for the day. While everything may seem immediate to us, it's really not immediate for everyone else. Get up each morning and move firmly forward with purpose, but don't run over anyone. "Here endeth the lesson."

Related articles by Zemanta

• Court Ruling Helps Special-Needs Students (usnews.com)