When the IEP Process Turns into Heartbreak:

I’m writing this not because I have all the answers, but because I know I’m not alone. If you're a parent who has ever walked into an IEP meeting full of hope, only to walk out feeling silenced and defeated, this is for you.

When we attended our son Blake’s IEP meeting, we were prepared to work as a team. We believed it would be a space where we could collaborate, bring our concerns, and do what’s best for our child. Instead, we were blindsided.

From the moment the meeting began, it was clear: the school had already made their decision. The proposed IEP already included a new school placement—without any prior conversation with us. Before we even finished talking about eligibility, the focus had shifted entirely to moving Blake to a more restrictive environment. There was no room to discuss removing that placement from the IEP. We were told the only option was to sign and disagree with that section later, through a resolution process.

One major issue? There was no one-to-one aide included in the IEP. I had to fight to get it added. I felt completely alone. No other team members spoke up to support my request. Finally, the school psychologist hesitantly said she could see my point—that we hadn’t tried everything yet to help Blake succeed where he was. Only then did they agree to include a one-to-one aide. But even with that win, the school placement remained in the document, unchallenged.

We felt we had no choice. We signed the IEP and formally disagreed with the school placement. But something in us broke that day. The way the meeting was handled showed us we couldn’t resolve this with the school directly. We rushed to find a lawyer and chose to go to due process.

Even after the IEP was signed, the school failed to follow through. A one-to-one aide was never put in place. When we asked why, we were told the school had no control over it. Meanwhile, we knew two other children with IEPs who received aides within a week. It was only after our lawyer sent a letter to the district, stating they were violating the law, that an aide was assigned—one full month later.

And then came a moment of hope. That aide, known as Mr. T, was perfect for Blake. He connected with him instantly, and within days, the transformation was obvious. Blake went from being on a shortened schedule, suspended, and struggling every day—to attending full-time with no behavioral issues and no notes sent home. For the first time in a long time, he was thriving.

But the battle wasn’t over.

Despite his success, the school and district informed us they planned to remove Mr. T and replace him with a private agency aide. We pushed back. Why change something that’s clearly working? Why risk destabilizing a child who finally feels safe and supported?

We asked for mediation. Our only request was simple: let Mr. T stay with Blake until the end of the school year. He started on January 28th. It is now early March. That’s just two months of consistency—and after everything Blake had been through, we wanted to give him a few more months with support that is working.

But the district refused. Their answer? “See you in court.”

Today, our lawyer told us the district wasn’t going to budge. The school principal wanted full discretion to move aides around and didn’t want Mr. T “locked in” with our child. We were advised to withdraw our complaint because we likely wouldn’t win.

And here I am—confused, hurt, and frankly heartbroken.

Why would a school remove the one person who helped our child turn everything around? Why undo something that’s working so well? My cynical side wonders: do they want him to fail? Do they think if he struggles again, they’ll have a stronger case to move him out?

It’s painful to admit, but the level of distrust I now feel in the system is something I never expected. They suspended him. They cut his day to one hour. They made every effort to show us what he couldn’t do. And now that he’s succeeding—they want to change what’s working?

It no longer feels like decisions are being made for the good of the child. It feels like decisions are being made to protect egos, policies, and power.

Blake is six years old. He deserves stability. He deserves adults who see him as more than a problem to move out of the way.

This isn’t just about my son—it’s about how our schools handle children who need support.

I want to end this by saying I’ll keep fighting. That I won’t back down. But the truth is—I’m broken. I don’t think I can keep fighting anymore.

If they choose to remove the aide that’s been helping him, and Blake can’t cope and starts to struggle again, then I will shift my focus. I will do what I can to support him from home. I’ll teach him how to handle school the best I can. But if I’m not there in the moment, there’s only so much I can do.

I won’t pour all my energy into a system that makes us feel judged and worried every single day. A system that has me jumping down my son’s throat the second he says something “wrong,” out of fear of how it’ll be perceived.

No. I won’t live like that. And I won’t let him grow up feeling like he’s never enough.

From now on, my focus is on his self-esteem—on making sure he knows he is loved, valued, and good just as he is. I’m done blaming him for a system that never gave him a real chance.

If he messes up and they kick him out—then that’s on them. Not just on him. And I refuse to make my child carry that weight anymore.

#EnjoyYourSilly

From Momma Vix