Virtual schooling is undeniably draining. There’s no escaping that fact. Juggling countless Zoom meetings, endless passwords, and multiple apps while guiding kids through each frustrating step just to submit their assignments is utterly overwhelming. When you factor in an IEP or a 504 plan, it can push any parent to their limits. I wish I could say I’ve mastered all of this, but managing my children’s IEPs during online learning has proven to be quite the challenge.
For those unfamiliar, an IEP, or Individualized Educational Program, is a legal document designed for public school students with special education needs as outlined by the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). It details a child’s current performance levels, strengths, and challenges, sets measurable annual goals, and identifies the services and accommodations needed to help the child succeed. Moreover, it specifies who is responsible for implementing each component of the IEP.
I’ve gone through this process twice, and securing an IEP is no small feat. Each child requires an educational evaluation to determine if they qualify under one of the 13 categories covered by IDEA. One of my kids qualifies due to speech and language impairment, while the other qualifies due to a visual impairment coupled with ADHD. I must admit, each experience has been lengthy, confusing, and emotionally taxing.
Navigating an IEP is no easy task. As a parent, it’s my responsibility to ensure that everyone involved in my kids’ education is aware of their IEPs. I want to guarantee that these plans are properly utilized and that the goals align with my children’s needs. This is already difficult during regular school times, but adding a global pandemic into the mix makes it feel nearly impossible.
In addition to my two children with IEPs, my other two have 504 plans (a less intensive version of an IEP), and I’m barely managing. Keeping track of the extra tutoring sessions, reading support, speech therapy, occupational therapy, and counseling appointments for all of my kids adds up to about 15 additional Zoom sessions each week. Trying to remember schedules, logins, and passwords elevates my stress levels significantly.
I often find myself torn between feeling grateful that my kids have access to these services and expressing frustration at the overwhelming nature of it all. It’s tough to find the right balance between being overly communicative and feeling like I’m bothering already stressed teachers and administrators. Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked if any of them viewed me as a difficult parent.
I also feel for my kids. Adjusting to virtual schooling and losing their daily routines has been hard on them as well. It seems unfair to expect them to succeed in this environment with so many obstacles. They often express that it’s not fair to have all these extra sessions, and I can hardly blame them, as I feel the same way.
Essentially, I’m managing a one-room schoolhouse for four kids, each with unique needs that I’m not fully equipped to handle. I frequently feel inadequate and guilty for not being able to support them adequately during this challenging time. My frustration sometimes leads to outbursts due to a lack of knowledge, time, sleep, and patience. With the pandemic, there’s virtually no downtime away from my children, making it hard to catch my breath. I feel utterly drained and uncertain about how much longer I can sustain this.
The most daunting aspect is my fear. I worry that my kids will lose the progress we’ve all worked so hard to achieve and that they may fall significantly behind their peers once we return to in-person schooling. I’m concerned that returning to school might lead to a regression in their learning, and I dread the thought that there’s little I can do to prevent this.
I must acknowledge my position of privilege. My children are relatively high functioning, I speak English fluently, and I hold a degree in child development. I’ve also worked in education, which has given me insight into the system. I don’t face food insecurity or job loss, and my husband is available part-time to help share the load.
I cannot claim to fully understand the struggles of parents with children who face severe emotional, physical, or cognitive challenges. For some, virtual learning isn’t even an option, and parents often become full-time caregivers with minimal support. I can’t imagine the added stress of worrying about job security, providing for a family, or communicating with teachers and administrators when language barriers exist.
This isn’t a plea for sympathy or a “woe is me” narrative. I’m sharing my experiences of managing IEPs during online learning to help other parents of children with special needs feel less isolated and to remind them that their feelings of frustration and overwhelm are valid.
There’s no one to blame for these challenges. We all must remember that everyone—parents, children, teachers, administrators, and service providers—is doing their best in what often feels like an impossible situation.
Check out our other blog post on seasonal recipes for some much-needed comfort food.
For more parenting insights, explore this authority on home insemination. If you’re looking for valuable information on pregnancy, this resource is excellent.
Summary:
Navigating my children’s IEPs during virtual schooling has been an overwhelming challenge. Juggling multiple educational needs, therapy sessions, and online learning while managing my own anxieties has left me feeling drained and fearful of my children’s progress. This experience highlights the importance of support for parents facing similar struggles.