In her education column for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Maureen Downey targets an issue that has been on my mind for quite some time, more so recently. (h/t)
The use of education jargon serves as a defense mechanism, to keep parents at bay and to establish from the onset who is the expert and who is the amateur. It becomes a way to silence questions and squelch opposition.
This year, as with most years, I have had a small group of resource students in my class, and have worked with one of our school’s resource teachers. Our team of professionals meets regularly, several times a year with parents, to discuss children’s progress and Individual Education Plans.
I’ve become increasingly frustrated with how complex these meetings have become. Although well intentioned, educational professionals often talk in jargon that sounds more appropriate for courtrooms, spoken my lawyers. A diagnostic/prescriptive teacher leads the team, and speaks on the requirements of the special education laws. A school psychologist rattles off numbers about tests and subtests, speech and occupational therapists provide further data, and the resource teacher informs parents of the results of a battery of academic tests. All of this data is supposed to determine what services a child needs, and can be offered.
In fact, these numbers are often meaningless to parents. At a recent meeting, I continually stopped team members and asked them to explain what these numbers meant. No parents were in attendance; I was interrupting the reports because I needed clarification. Imagine how a parent must feel.
I once sat through a rather long meeting, listening to report after report. The parents sat at the table and listened, but said nothing. After a while, the parents’ silence became deafening. I began to ask the professionals to explain what certain results meant, and clarified some things to the parents. When the meeting ended I walked them to the door and asked how they thought things went. The mother responded that she had no idea what anyone was talking about until they explained, near the end, that her son had made good progress and would soon be exited from special education services. That’s all they were hoping to hear.
The law is to blame for much of this. Federal requirements are specific, and failure to follow these guidelines can prove disastrous for a school district. But we cannot forget that the parents are the most important people sitting at the table of a team meeting.
Recently two members of our team bemoaned the fact that we had to send out parent notification of the next meeting, even though it was certain the parent would not attend. It was true that the parent had not attended any of these team meetings, but he did meet with me, and the principal, to discuss his child’s behavior. The difference? We agreed to meet at 5:00 pm. This father worked to provide for his children, and couldn’t afford to take time off to attend a meeting during the day. At our team, I requested that the next meeting be scheduled at 5:00 so the father could attend. The rest of the team, including the two members who had been complaining, scoffed at the idea. The meeting was scheduled for 11:00 am.
We must make our parents part of the team. Meetings should be easy for parents to understand and invite their participation. And meeting schedules should be determined by when parents can attend. Until we do so, we have no right to complain about the lack of parent involvement.
