’Twas the night before an IEP meeting, all quiet, no peace.
Not a parent was resting. Not even a least.
The binders were stacked
by the laptop with care,
In hopes that tomorrow… someone else would be prepared.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of belonging spun round parents’ heads.
And I in my hoodie, cold coffee in hand,
Was bracing myself for the educational plan.
When out of my inbox there came such a ping,
I flew to my email, what now would they bring?
Another draft IEP, sent late, unsurpassed,
Clearly marked FINAL… though questions still passed.
The goals were all foggy, “will try,” “will improve,”
No baseline, no data, no
measurable move.
The services thin, a legal-looking stew,
Just enough to say “offered,” not enough to be true.
Then onto the screen popped the team one by one,
With charts and rehearsals and “this has worked” fun.
“There’s no data for that.” “We don’t usually do.”
“Let’s wait and see first.” (A polite way to say
no.)
“High expectations!” they said with a grin,
While quietly lowering the bar, again.
So I cleared my throat softly and asked just one thing:
“Who teaches this skill, and what support will it bring?”
The room fell quite still. Some papers were moved.
The language grew clearer. The timeline improved.
Because advocacy isn’t rude or unkind,
It’s naming what’s missing and holding the line.
So the meeting adjourned, not perfect, but changed.
With notes to revise and goals rearranged.
I closed down my laptop, exhausted but sure:
Belonging’s not gifted. It’s built and secured.
Happy IEP Eve to all who prepare,
With courage, not conflict, and love laid bare.
May your data be clear, your allies be kind,
And may your child’s worth never be up for debate, not this time.
Merry Christmas to all and to all Good Night.
