Okay, there really weren't explosions, but there were Good Guys, and Bad Guys today. This afternoon we had our IEP team meeting to try and resolve the speech therapy issues. If you're just tuning in, you can read all about 'The Fiasco' starting here. Long story made really short, we have the main thing we asked for, a different speech therapist to re-evaluate the minion and put together an actual section of the IEP that makes sense for the him, not the school district.
The meeting started out with us explaining our position, events up to this point, conversations the people at the meeting weren't privy to, or informed of with the director of special education, etc, and what our goals were. We would be the Good Guys in this scenario, advocates for a child whose needs were not being met under the IEP, or by the district at large. (Try and understand I had to let the husband talk because as I stared at the Bad Guys through my red-tinged glare all I could think is I hate you, I hate you, I hate you all, why is this so hard, and why can't you sheeple be more like lemmings and just jump off cliffs? Grrr.) While that mantra repeated in my head, the husband calmly and logically laid out our position to said Bad Guys. It went something something like this, 'I'mma let you finish, but first I'm gonna tell you how you're wrong'.
We laid out a clear picture of the therapist making sure the district and only the districts interests were in mind when deciding on therapy, and trapped her into verbally proving it.
The minion's regular classroom teacher was there as well, and nearly laughing at the sheer silliness of most of it. The poor man had to catch himself from snorting in laughter as the speech therapist waffled through her explanations and I had to tell her to make up her mind.
In the end, the only thing that really matters is that the minion is getting the services he needs, re-evaluated by someone who we hope is less of an idiot, and his interests are being looked after by people who are always on his side. Now, I'm going to see if I can find me a white hat to ride off into this weekend's sunset with.
The minion's regular classroom teacher was there as well, and nearly laughing at the sheer silliness of most of it. The poor man had to catch himself from snorting in laughter as the speech therapist waffled through her explanations and I had to tell her to make up her mind.
In the end, the only thing that really matters is that the minion is getting the services he needs, re-evaluated by someone who we hope is less of an idiot, and his interests are being looked after by people who are always on his side. Now, I'm going to see if I can find me a white hat to ride off into this weekend's sunset with.
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