Sometimes the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction, Part 5
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broken-pencil-schools-jpg_021534On Monday, my daughter switched to a new classroom placement. This will be her fifth elementary school, and third school district, in six years. It will be her second mid-year transfer. Does anyone other than me think this is a bit much for an autistic child who struggles with change?

For those of you who missed the earlier parts to this story (or simply want to refresh your memory), you can find them here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.

I concluded Part 4 by stating that I was extremely conflicted about Katie’s current placement in our home district versus an alternative placement in the nearby Pleasanton School District. I wasn’t sure if the alternative’s benefits outweighed the negatives, let alone justified a second major transition in a single school year.

After I wrote that post, I received feedback from several friends, including two with extensive special education experience, who all recommended that I keep Katie in her current placement. They felt that the gains Katie had shown in speech and social skills outweighed the other factors. I was inclined to agree.

I had expected to receive all of the reports for Katie’s triennial review before winter break. At the previous IEP, the team had committed to producing the reports by December 5th. When the subsequent meeting was rescheduled, everyone had already completed the necessary testing and assured me that the reports would be ready “soon.” I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of digesting six or seven reports and test scores over the holidays, but given that the IEP was now scheduled for January 8th, the second day back at school, it was better than the alternative.

Katie’s classroom behavior continued to improve in December. I began to think maybe the discussion of a change of placement had been premature. I contacted the case manager in Pleasanton who made it clear that she was busy and not really interested in answering my questions. I had what can only be called a “weird feeling” when talking to her. I decided that I wanted to make a second visit to the Pleasanton program. I hoped this would help me decide. Neither of the two case managers in my district responded to my calls and emails.

On the last day of class before winter break, the teacher apologized and said his report would not be ready. He asked if he could email it to me over the break, and I said yes. I asked if the other reports were completed. He didn’t know.

No reports were delivered on the last day of class. I emailed the teacher, the principal, and the case managers to tell them that I was concerned I couldn’t review six or more triennial reports plus annual progress reports and proposed goals for the upcoming year in a single night. I asked for everything to be emailed to me over winter break. No reports were emailed. The teacher’s draft report arrived late on Sunday, containing big chunks that he was unable to complete without the school psychologist’s report.

Most of the reports trickled in Monday afternoon and evening. The IEP was Tuesday afternoon. Despite my assertion that I WOULD NOT pull an all-nighter to read a bunch of reports that were supposed to be completed a month earlier, I stayed up late so I could at least skim through what I had. The results confirmed my gut instinct that Katie was better off where she was. Katie had made more progress academically in four months than she had in the two prior school years. Her speech was accelerating as well. From an academic, speech, and social skills standpoint, the current placement was working far better than I’d ever expected.

The behavior report never arrived.

The IEP meeting lasted three hours. My attorney/advocate from Community Assistance for Special Education (CASE) was there. As a result, the school staff was very cautious, and we barely got through all the triennial reports. Geri, the advocate, took issue with a few things, but mostly the reports were adequate. Geri asked the behaviorist about her credentials. A really uncomfortable moment followed. The behaviorist stammered and finally admitted that she had completed the coursework but no, had never been certified. Even I could see that the report was filled with holes. There was a pie chart depicting the antecedents (causes) of Katie’s negative behaviors. Fifty-two percent was categorized as “Other.” This was in addition to a chunk labeled “Other settings.”

Geri questioned why Katie had been suspended (and non-suspended) for 14 days without the district completing a new FAA (behavioral assessment). The behaviorist responded that the Dublin School District had done one. Geri reminded her that that assessment was done three years earlier in a program that the behaviorist had described as “very different” than the class Katie was currently in. Geri also pointed out that the behaviors had changed, and according to the pie chart, the district didn’t know the cause of the majority of them. The behaviorist insisted she had data to flesh this out.

Geri smiled and said she looked forward to receiving the updated report.

To be continued…

Until next time,
Cynthia Patton

About Cynthia J. Patton

Writer, Editor, Advocate, Speaker, Special Needs Attorney, and Autism Mom. Also the Founder and Chairperson of Autism A to Z, a nonprofit providing resources and solutions for life on the spectrum.
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4 Responses to Sometimes the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction, Part 5

  1. Pingback: Sometimes the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction, Part 8 | CYNTHIA J. PATTON

  2. Pingback: Sometimes the Truth is Stranger Than Fiction: An Update | CYNTHIA J. PATTON

  3. Pingback: IEP Woes, Part 1 | CYNTHIA J. PATTON

  4. Pingback: IEP Woes | CYNTHIA J. PATTON

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